Proposition Infinity (Formerly Who Killed Moff Tarkin?)
by Wellingtonboots
Summary: When the mutilated body of a man thought long dead turns up to haunt a dangerous diplomatic mission, Luke Skywalker sets out to prove the Alliance delegation is innocent but uncovers a horrifying conspiracy that threatens the stability of the galaxy. Luke Vader Father&Son story with murder, mystery and horror. Featuring Han Solo, Leia Organa, Admiral Piett and General Veers.
1. Intimate Negotiations

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 1. Intimate Negotiations

**Summary:** When the mutilated body of a man thought long dead turns up to haunt a dangerous diplomatic mission, Luke Skywalker must proved the Alliance delegation is innocent whilst dealing with the constant presence of the one man he does not want to know. Post ESB, Luke/Vader with a splash of murder mystery.

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**Author:** Wellingtonboots

**Archive:** Slytherin Serpent, Short Multi-chapter

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**AN: Just a little fun after watching too much CSI, please review. I do not own anything characters, universes, lightsabres etc...but would be most willing to remedy the situation.**

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**Dramatis Personae **

**The Alliance Delegation**

Luke Skywalker - Jedi Knight in training, idealist and general laughing stock of the Rebel community

Han Solo – a smuggler with no survival instincts and even less tact, but still an ideal match for any wayward Princess

Leia Organa – a wayward Princess with a sharp tongue and even sharper looks

Chewbacca – a brilliant investigator, ceaseless optimist, the brains of the entire delegation who just so happens to be a ten foot tall wookiee with a steel crossbow.

Wedge Antilles – Rogue pilot, hotshot, not-very-effective leader of the Rogue squad

Wes Janson – Rogue pilot and self styled joker with a poor taste in humour

Derek "Hobbie" Klivian – Rogue pilot with a pathological aversion to truth and responsibility

C3PO – loveable droid, frequently abandoned

R2D2 – loveable droid, infinitely useful but also frequently abandoned

Greenin – Nice, amiable but distant diplomat on the verge of a mental breakdown

Four very old diplomats – who look like they might keel over if they laugh too hard

And an array of very dull extras who never get any lines.

**The Imperial Delegation**

Darth Vader – fearsome Sith Lord, executor of the Emperor's will and worried father of a wayward teenager.

General Veers – aggressive, voracious, conniving Army officer

Admiral Piett – anxious, pale, characterless Naval Officer

Five stormtroopers – Vader's fist and the Empire's finest fighting men (who occasionally babysit for their boss when needed).

Four diplomats – whom no one has ever seen outside the negotiating room.

The Corpse of Moff Tarkin – clearly defied the saying "you only die once" by dying twice and ruining a perfectly nice swimming pool in the process.

**Other characters/props:**

An overweight security chief who might have spent his last life as a nerf

A female forensics officer who just happens to be blonde

A mysterious blonde

Several other very attractive females

A bar tender who doesn't gossip

A doctor who never learnt any communication skills

A quaint painting

A lot of yellow crystals

Enough preservative to pickle an army

The planet of Andaman – in an existential sense

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**25th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH - ****2000 HOURS**** – THE DIPLOMATIC COMPLEX, ANDAMAN**

"_Forensics Team Field Notes Recording – 25th__Fifth– 2000 hours._

_The body was found in the shared swimming pool of the Diplomatic complex at 1951 hours by a member of the Alliance Diplomatic Delegation. Witness states that the condition of the body and its surroundings has not changed since discovery._

_The body is currently floating face down in the middle of the rectangular swimming pool. A large quantity of blood presumably from the victim has diffused throughout the entire pool pointing to a time of death of between 30-40 minutes ago. No visible injuries on the back of the body. No murder weapon or potential weapon has been found. An extensive search of the premises is still being conducted._

_Victim is dressed in Imperial Military uniform but no rank markings are visible in its current position. No Imperial representative from the Imperial Diplomatic Delegation has yet arrived to identify the victim."_

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**SAME DAY -****1930 HOURS****– THE DIPLOMATIC COMPLEX, ANDAMAN**

The diplomatic complex on the Andaman Skyhook was not so much a complex as a prison. Even with thick layers of rare shrubbery Luke still could not ignore the ever present security cameras, droids and human guards. Andaman was watching.

The Empire wanted this fiercely independent system and that was enough to convince Mon Mothma that Andaman was important to the Alliance. A small thing like staying under stringent guard was not going to put off a full blown diplomatic mission, but the guards were not for protection as Luke soon discovered. They had a much more insidious purpose.

Diplomacy on Andaman meant more than just negotiations around a polished teal table, it meant more than just signing pieces of flimsplast, diplomacy meant _intimacy_ and the Andamans believed in order to achieve a diplomatic solution one had to first become _intimate_with one's contemporaries on the other side of the table.

It was no surprise (or in Luke's case a very big surprise) to find a lavish skyhook towering hundreds of kilometres above the swirling purple planet built for the specific purpose of forcing the Alliance and Imperials to become _intimate_. There was every conceivable luxury onboard despite the small size and if one did not find something to one's liking a team was on hand to handle even the most whimsies demands. However there was one simple catch: the forty delegates were trapped here in this surreal floating cage until they came to a settlement, preferably one that would not make the Andaman government wish to blow up the skyhook and everyone on it.

To fulfil the Andaman philosophy of intimate diplomacy the two factions were allocated the same penthouse where, in the spirit of Andaman originality, all the domed rooms were interconnected and privacy was one luxury no one could obtain. It hadn't taken long for the Imperial delegation to cordon off their preferred sector and small but threatening notices stared appearing on doors providing entry into _Imperial_ territory. This suited Luke and the Alliance well for no one wanted a violent spark to set all the buried tension alight, particularly not in this dangerous section of space where only Andaman ruled.

So far there had only been two encounters between the Alliance and the Empire here, both of which had involved the exchange of cool silence and dirty looks. The Imperials preferred to keep indoors which worked for Luke because there was definitely one Imperial he did not want to see.

_Lord Vader_ was here, on Andaman, making good use of his infamous diplomatic skills. Luke wa practically shaking with fear at their last encounter across the negotiation table much to the annoyance of seasoned diplomats. Wedge had to escort him out on the excuse of sickness and the Andaman physicians duly prescribed him pain killers for phantom pain.

Thankfully in the cool air of the evening when the day's negotiations become vague unpleasant memories Luke could find privacy and solace in the small garden behind the communal swimming pool. No one ventured here despite the pleasing scent and soothing splashing sounds of the numerous fountains. Everyone had something better to do like playing sabacc, reviewing notes or...frying droids with a lightsabre. The Andamans in their boundless generosity had provided a fully equip sparring arena for the famed Sith Lord so that he could enjoy all the earthly pleasures. In fact they were just one small step short of actually providing some live non-sentient beings for full enjoyment. The darkly humorous side of his personality wanted to find Vader and watch but Luke knew that he could not withstand another encounter with the Sith Lord

Right now, right here was not the place for such terrible thoughts. He had already spent the last twenty minutes locked in angst and quiet time was precious when sharing a penthouse with thirty nine other people. For a few moments Luke simply stood there inhaling the heady scent of sweet flowers and watching the fountains sparkle. Money could indeed buy you peace of mind even if only for a few moments. However within minutes he sensed a familiar presence through the force and he knew that his solitude this evening was over.

The figure picking her way across the untamed path was Leia. The only other people who were remotely concerned about Luke Skywalker were getting drunk at the high class cantina on level 12. She was a beautiful as ever in her senatorial gown but the stressful negotiations had drawn dark circles under her eyes. Andaman wanted too much but the Empire was willing to match any price, it was only the inherent distrust of the Core Worlds that sent Andaman calling for the Alliance.

"Are you okay?" asked Leia as she brushed stray hairs from her face, "I heard you turned down Han's offer to sample some fine liquor."

"I'd rather be here with these plants," said Luke smiling calmly, "drinking does nothing for me."

They simply looked at each other letting the sights and sounds of the garden carry away the calming silence.

"It's nice here, like on Alderaan," said Leia pensively, "we used to have a water garden just like this with too many fountains to count...but enough about me..._are_you alright? I know Vader is here and it's...hard for you..."

"I'll be fine, Leia," said Luke abruptly and they reverted to staring in silence again.

Suddenly a piercing, agonised scream ripped through the air and echoed with terrifying resonance throughout the glass domed garden.

"Luke!"

"It came from the pool!"

They ran without even considering what their actions would entail.

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**SAME DAY -****2005 HOURS****– PENTHOUSE SECTION, THE DIPLOMATIC COMPLEX, ANDAMAN**

"Commander Skywalker and Princess Leia Organa were second to witness the scene," said the bulky security chief who seemed in his element under the flashing red lights of the emergency services' vehicles.

"I suppose they didn't touch anything," responded the tall blond crime investigations officer in her clipped Andaman accent.

"Nope," said the officer shaking his large neck like a nerf with too many flies. "No one's touched anything, like I've already told you."

The blonde investigations office spoke into her recording device again to confirm the fact.

"And no Imperials have turned up to identify him yet," grumbled the bull-neck security chief, "none of them still in this section, all down at level 12..."

"Where is Lord Vader?" demanded the blonde as a junior member of her team squeezed past them to take more holos of the dead body floating like a grotesque ornament in the middle of the pink pool.

The security chief shrugged, "I'm just the guard in uniform, I'm not privy to these things." Checking with the real guards was left unsaid.

All the flashing lights and questions were just for show and Luke knew from his seat at the back of an ambulance, he was meant to hear their whole exchange.

"Very well," she replied said through gritted teeth, "I shall have to wait here until your men manage to locate him, or someone who can identify the body."

"You won't get much identification with his face still soaking in the pool," muttered the security chief gruffly as the junior detectives clicked away furiously on their cameras leaving no stone unphotographed

"He will be removed now," snapped the blonde and two droids in pristine white covering rolled to the edge of the pool and hauled the body out by their hooks. In one swift motion the dripping corpse was transferred to the waiting black body bag and rolled away.

Even as the stretcher rolled towards them, Luke had a feeling that he should look away but morbid curiosity made him want to see the face, to see who had been so brutally murdered.

Leia rose from her seat to get a better look and before Luke could see beyond the sparse grey hairs barely covering the scalp, Leia screamed.

Her terror ripped through the force like a lightning bolt but her next words were far more terrifying.

"It's _Moff Tarkin_!"

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**AN: Right next chapter: a ghastly realisation that is nothing compared to the father/son talk Luke has been dreading. Please review.**


	2. Deadly Cliches

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 2. Deadly Clichés

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**Author:** Wellingtonboots

**Archive:** Slytherin Serpent,

**Status:** Short Multi-chapter

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**25th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 21:10 HOURS – SECRUITY HQ, THE DIPLOMATIC COMPLEX, ANDAMAN**

"Yes, I knew Moff Tarkin," snapped Leia. To anyone unfamiliar with her unique body language Princess Organa looked impatient and cold but Luke could read her like a datapad and she was _scared_.

No one expects a man who was confirmed dead more than three years ago to reappear in this remote corner of the galaxy and be brutally murdered. It had taken Luke all of three milliseconds to realise that someone or some_thing_ had sliced open Tarkins' stomach and twisted his intestines around his own neck but it had been so carefully done that it was hard to see this when the corpse was floating faced down in the pool.

_But how did he get here in the first place?_ thought Luke his mind spinning with confusion. The skyhook was probably more secure than the Death Star but that was a bad analogy. The Andaman government knew exactly what they were setting up and every skilled person; every manufactured droid had been put in place for the purpose of providing security. Even the bar tenders were intelligence operatives. No one could sneak on board here...unless the Andamans let them on. The Alliance's initial attempt to slide some of their own guards on board had been met by amused irritation from the real security staff and Luke knew the Empire could not have fared any better. The Andamans were fiercely protective of their control over this little skyhook and no one was foolish enough to challenge it.

Luke reckoned he knew the twenty Imperial ambassadors by sight if not by name and there was definitely one Imperial he knew a bit too well.

"And you were convince that he had died on the Death Star?" asked the bullish security chief they had seen just an hour ago by the pool.

"Yes I _was_, but I was obviously mistaken," said Leia acridly. She had long concluded that upbraiding the security chief was the safest way of taking out her frustrations.

They were locked in the Security Headquarters on level 15 just beneath the penthouse section. Brown uniformed guards milled around the square outside providing a reassuring display of force but they were not really guards anymore than the chief security officer was really in charge. It was all just for show and Luke knew the penthouse section was now teeming with special operatives in disguise picking up all the evidence.

"We do not think you are a suspect," said the chief trying to deflect the barrage of sharp remarks. "We just want to know if you really believe it is Grand Moff Tarkin."

"Shouldn't a DNA test confirm it?" asked Leia derisively.

"Your highness, there is no genetic profile to which we can compare him to," said the chief flatly.

"Well, _I_ thought it was him – it looked exactly like him."

There was just a small quiver in her voice that betrayed her fear but Leia ploughed on regardless.

"I did not know him very well but he had most distinctive features." She paused for a moment but then asked, "What have the Imperials said?"

The chief looked in two minds as to whether he should give them the information and finally he relented.

"Lord Vader has confirmed that the body is most likely that of Grand Moff Tarkin, but he is also at a loss to why it was here. It was clear from the autopsy the victim was perfectly healthy until he was murdered and yet the Imperial Death certificate said he died three years ago on the Death Star."

"I won't be surprised if he faked his own death," said Leia haughtily, "Moff Tarkin was never one to stay on a sinking ship."

The Chief did not look amused

"Any how the Imperials have yet to release a formal statement about the matter but it would be most helpful if you -,"

"Seen as we are not suspects," interjected Leia, "we are disinclined to make a public statement. This has nothing to do with the Alliance."

"With all due respect your highness, people do say you have the motive,"

"How can I possibly kill a dead man?" asked Leia as she got up to leave.

* * *

When they finally got back to penthouse section the pool had been drained and teams of detectives in airtight jumpsuits were combing every inch of the floor for evidence. The flashing red lights had gone but huge thousand watt stadium lights have been brought in to replace them. The pool and surrounding shrubbery were gripped in the burning glare.

A dark blue energy field had been erected around the crime scene preventing any unauthorised entry.

_So how _do_ you kill a dead man?_ thought Luke was they walked around the perimeter of the cordoned off area. _Well, you'd have to know he was alive first._

"I really don't see why we are being dragged into this, it not as if we discovered the body," said Leia as she surveyed the crime scene with undisguised curiosity. "Ambassador Greein is still distraught, I do hope they haven't tried to interrogate him,"

Several jumpsuit clad shapes looked as if they wanted to wave their hands to shoo her away but then thought better of it when they belatedly realised who they were dealing with.

"Have _you_ spoken to Greein yet?" asked Luke wondering whether the charming, sophisticated ambassador was going to recover in time for the next round of talks. He had been taken away under the pretext of needing psychiatric therapy and not heard from since but it had only been an hour ago and perhaps Greein was still sitting on one of those hard leather couches having his mind deconstructed by a short sighted doctor.

"No, but he'll be back soon, I'm sure."

Leia didn't look so sure and how could she be when they and their Imperial adversaries were all at the mercy of the reputedly ruthless Andaman government. Any system that had managed to physically repel Imperial rule for over twenty years was a force to be reckoned with but Andaman had gone three steps further and procured a complete ban on Imperial shipping within its outer rim system. However they could not stay isolated forever and the Imperial Spider was simply biding its time, waiting for the plasma energy reserves to dry out.

"Besides," continued Leia as they approached the entrance to the penthouse, "The _real_ security force already knows who the perpetrator is, we were only taken in for question to satisfy official protocol."

"They couldn't keep us so we're off the hook?" asked Luke as the crystal glass door swung open to reveal the sumptuous atrium with its huge artificial waterfall and pool.

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Leia not bothering to lower her voice, "the Imperial delegation will not take this lightly."

"How can they possibly account for the fact that Moff Tarkin has been officially dead for three years?"

"They'll find a way."

The blossoming foliage inside the atrium concealed many places where eavesdroppers could hide but eavesdroppers were not needed because just above the waterfall was a whole row of cameras disguised as rock features covering every conceivable angle.

Two identically majestic staircases curved around the water feature and joined the balcony above where all the private chambers were located. The other three sides of the rectangular atrium were covered with tranparisteel windows that looked out onto the outdoor sauna, the nunaball courts and the gardens.

"Well at least the Imperials haven't returned yet," said Luke with false cheer. The night had only just begun and it was going to get very ugly.

"I'm going to my room, care to join me?" asked Leia casually as she strolled up the stairs. _Why not?_ Thought Luke, _your room is just as good as mine for hiding in._

Leia's chambers turned out to be identical to his, right down to the shiny silver door knobs shaped like swimming fish. However she had been stubborn enough to personalise her apartment. Hanging prominently on the back wall was a moss painting, which looked like a cross between a pot plant and a bad excuse for art. A large green puddle of murky water had formed below the painting and was spreading with every dirty drop of water that draining down from the frame.

"Uh, Leia?"

"Don't worry about the carpet, Luke, I'm sure the Andamans won't mind. Now we need to figure this out."

"Figure what out?" asked Luke, his mind still held captive by the grotesque lump of vegetation.

"Tarkin's death! The Andamans have been humiliated by this breach of security and they need to prosecute someone, or at least name a suspect. I highly doubt that the real perpetrator will be brought to justice."

"So you think that the Andamans might be responsible too," said Luke shrewdly.

"If I hadn't swept this chamber for listening devices just now, we'd all be in big trouble," replied Leia casually, "and to tell you the truth I really can't figure out _why_ the Andamans would do this. It's clearly an embarrassment on their part to admit and unauthorised person managed to infiltrate this skyhook. Additionally it will simply cause more tension between us and the Imps..."

"Well, maybe they just want the Alliance and Imperials off their property fighting each other. The plot would work – the Imperials would demand the Alliance to be brought to justice, we would deny any involvement and then the talks would be scuppered."

Leia raised one aristocratic eyebrow.

"Well reasoned, but you're forgetting something very important. The Andamans need us – maybe not the Alliance in particularly but certainly outside help. No one knows how bad their energy crisis is but according to the old Trade Federation reports the plasma was running low almost a decade before the clone wars. I'm impressed they managed to last so long on their own but they _need_ trade, preferably with us _and_ the Imperials. Destroying this diplomatic talk would be disastrous for the system."

Luke frowned at the idea. The force was being uncooperative this time and he had not been able to sense even a vague feeling of deception from the Andamans or anyone else for that matter. There was just an undercurrent of fear and confusion floating insidiously below the surface.

Suddenly loud angry voices erupted in balcony and Luke wasted no time in rushing out into the corridor. At the top of the stairs, he saw the belligerent figure of Han Solo pointing aggressively at none other than Darth Vader and Admiral Piett. Chewie was cautiously holding his crossbow against his chest as waiting cautiously for a chance to use it.

At Luke's appearance all four men turned to stare at him.

"What's going on here?" demanded Leia but even she fell silent when she saw the looming figure of the Dark Lord of the Sith.

For several seconds only the hissing of Vader's respirator broke the tense silence and Luke had the creepy feeling that Darth Vader was looking right at him from behind the blank eye sockets of his mask. It took all of his Jedi control keep himself from running away.

"Captain Solo is under the influence of alcohol," rumbled Vader calmly, "I suggest you escort him back to his quarters."

"I'm fine!" snarled Solo as he lunged forwards in an attempt to grab Vader's cape, "but I'll tell you someone who _isn't_! What did you do to Luke, you b-,"

"-Rahhhhh,"

With an irritated roar Chewie wrapped his free hand around Han's mouth before he could do any more damage.

"Luke Skywalker," continued Vader as though Han Solo didn't exist, "I have been waiting for you."

"You have?" said Luke derisively before his fear got the better of him.

"Yes," stated Vader flatly, "Come to my quarters we have something to discuss."

"_What?"_ cried Leia and Han in unison.

Luke couldn't take it anymore; the terrible memories of Bespin were crowding his mind. His robotic hand throbbed with electric pain. He had to get out of here before he collapsed again. Suddenly a voice erupted inside his mind and he knew immediately who it was from,

"_We have much to discuss, young one. Come with me...or I shall inform your friends exactly what we discussed on Bespin."_

"_You wouldn't!"_ thought Luke instinctively, _"you wouldn't dare!"_

"_On the contrary, _my son_, it is not I who is afraid of our connection. Come with me."_

"_I'm not afraid!"_

"_Then come,"_

It was not a command but a challenge and even if Darth Vader hadn't reinforced those two words with a strong dose of force suggestion Luke would have risen to the bait.

"Fine,"

The disjointed conversation between boy and Sith taking finally burst forth into the mundane dimension and it took the mundane inhabitants by surprise.

"I'm fine," repeated Luke firmly in order to cover up for his lapse of judgement.

"Very well, young Skywalker, come."

Vader extended one gloved hand across no man's land and Luke closed the distance between them with three completely voluntary strides.

"The _hell_," cursed Han Solo quietly under his alcohol soaked breath.

"I'll be back Han, don't worry."

Something was fortifying his courage with as much effect as several shots of Povlop Vodka. What Luke did not know was that Dark Lords of the Sith did not need to ply young vulnerable Jedi with vodka to make them..._behave._ The power of the Dark Side was enough to bend even the strongest minds to its insidious will.

Together they moved off up the corridor to the other side of the penthouse. Vader had been not assigned chambers because not even the official Andaman government representative wanted to be dissected with a lightsabre. Instead the Dark Lord of the Sith seemed to have chosen a closeted suit in one far corner that was directly accessible via the balcony walkway but did not itself lead onto any other rooms. It was the closest anyone managed to get to privacy within the entire skyhook.

"Enter," commanded Vader as he pushed his young son into his suite, which was less than tastefully decorated in lavender and violet. The vase that had been pera-glued to the coffee table had been relieved of its sickly sweet contents and the pictures of landscapes from around the galaxy had been systematically destroyed so that only the blank frames remained. However the large transpri-steel windows that over looked the atrium could not be disposed off and the tranquil sight of the garden was cleverly obscured by two well place pieces of stiff fabric hanging from the ceiling.

"It's nice," muttered Luke neutrally as Vader directed him to the lavender sofa. In the back of his mind a vague feeling of terror was itching at his consciousness.

"Sit Luke,"

If he had been in his right mind and not feeling so _floppy_, Luke would have protested that they were not on a first name basis – yet.

"Okay," he replied, flaccid and compliant.

"You will have heard of the recent murder," rumbled the Dark Lord who in an unnecessary act of maintaining superiority decided to loomed over him.

"Yes,"

"Very well, did you kill Moff Tarkin?" demanded Vader without any hesitation.

"No,"

"Do you know who did?"

"No,"

"Was it the _Princess?_"

A small spark of independent logic that stubbornly refused to cave pointed out that seen as Luke didn't know who had murdered Moff Tarkin the last question was utterly irrelevant. However his mind was still happily floating in the pseudo alcohol-induced daze.

"No,"

Vader paused as though mentally moving onto the next task at hand.

"Do you want to know who killed Moff Tarkin?"

"Yes,"

"Then join me,"

"No thank you," replied Luke sweetly as though he had been brought up to politely turn down offers of absolute power from absent fathers.

"Join me,"

Somewhere in the back of his mind another bottle's worth of imaginary Vodka started to affect his central nervous system.

"No thank you," repeated Luke ever so politely, just like his Aunt Beru had taught him.

Vader relented, most likely because he realised to his own surprise that controlling Luke Skywalker's mind with lashings of the dark side simply made the boy behave like a senile pensioner and he would have said so out loud if the boy hadn't fixed him with that unnerving smile; the unnerving smile that _Padme_ used to put on when she knew Anakin was up to something bad.

Slowly that dark coils disentangled themselves from Luke's mind until most of the drunkenness faded into the distance leaving Luke in full control of his senses.

"AHHHH!"

With an almighty force assisted leap Luke jumped over the back of the sofa, putting the hideous piece of furniture between them.

"Calm down, Luke," rumbled Vader and stretched out his glove to prevent the boy from doing some rash like rushing out of the room.

Luke made a beeline for the door but an invisible hand gripped the back of his tunic and hauled him, quietly gently, back to the sofa.

"What did you do to me!" cried Luke half way between hate and fear.

"Merely a small dose of force suggestion," replied Vader calmly and when he stretched out to control Luke's mind again he found that the boy had instinctively raised some impressive mental defences.

"Stay out of my head!" snapped Luke, his voice nearly cracking with fear and his hand straying to his lightsabre. Vader debated whether to relieve the boy of his weapon before Luke managed to hurt himself again but decided that it was about time to let his quarry go. They would have plenty of other opportunities to talk. After all, who was going to deny a father time with his son, particularly when the father in question liked to choke people with the force.

"You may leave now,"

"Huh?" the boy was looking as though Vader was deliberately setting some sort of trap.

"Our conversation has reached the end of its usefulness."

Luke took the hint and edged towards the purple door without taking his eyes off Darth Vader.

"If you ever do that to me again, I will – I will complain to the Andaman government," said Luke fiercely.

Vader tried to stop himself from feeling amused.

"By all means, young one,"

"I will!" snapped Luke before wrenching the door open and stepping cautiously out.

"If you wish to conduct an independent investigation into Moff Tarkin's murder," continued Vader, "I will tell you now that the body is a fake."

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**AN: And the plot thickens reviews very welcome!**


	3. Perverted Problems

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 3. Perverted Problems

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**Author:** Wellingtonboots

**Archive:** Slytherin Serpent,

**Status:** Short Multi-chapter

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**AN: **First update of the new semester, I've been so disorganised with my time lately that I haven't been able to do any writing at all. **To all Illusionist Fans there is actually an extra chapter on my website ****./starwars****. **

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**25th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 22.00 HOURS – PRINCESS LEIA'S CHAMBERS, PENTHOUSE, THE DIPLOMATIC COMPLEX, ANDAMAN**

"I'm perplexed," said Leia

"Me too," groaned Han as he sipped some more of the foul smelling mixture he called _"the best hangover cure since veermok dung"._

"I'm scared," admitted Luke looking traumatised.

"Rrowwwww" replied Chewie and C3PO didn't bother to translate.

The shock of Luke's abduction had worn off and the aftershock of seeing Luke alive ten minutes later was also wearing off.

"I just don't get why that b-,"

"Han!"

"Okay, why does a guy like Darth Vader drag you into his private room to have a little chat and then release you? I mean it's _you_."

He emphasized his point by pointing accusingly at Luke huddled on the bed.

"Are you sure he didn't try to do anything?" asked Leia fretfully, "planted a listen device on you, inject you with stuff -,"

"-Touch you in your-,"

"Han! Shut up!"

"Fine, but I still think he's a _Class A Pervert_, with a capital P!"

"How did you reach that conclusion?" snapped Luke, feeling for the first time that his innocent reputation was on the line.

"Cos of the way he stalks you – yeah he stalks you, I see him watching you with those blank eye sockets of his during meetings...and God forbid if you're not there 'cos that just makes him grouchy."

"Han!"

"I think he's got an unhealthy attraction to you, kid, you know what I'm talking about?"

"No!"

"Really," snapped Leia who found imagining Darth Vader with a sexual appetite completely impossible, "I think you're the Class A Pervert."

"Look, guys, this isn't helping with solving the murder case," interrupted Luke.

"Kid, the murder's been solved already; they're just not letting you know the results."

"But Darth Vader said the body was fake," said Luke for the fourth time.

"It's Vader, kid," Han Solo sucked in another mouthful of his drink and pulled a sour expression. "He doesn't want you meddling around."

"No, _he_ wanted to meddle around, believe me," insisted Luke, "all he did from the very beginning was ask me what we'd found, what we'd been doing, who we thought the killer was..."

"Well, there you have it; the Andamans haven't informed his Sithliness of their results either."

"I think," said Leia cautiously, "that whatever the results were, they were not worth publishing."

"Ahrowww?" asked Chewie curiously.

"Because, if they had found a...a...well, a _plausible killer_ – a killer they could _plausibly_ convict, it would greatly improve their public image amongst their guests."

"And you're saying that they found something completely out of this world? Something supernatural?" demanded Han as he knocked back the last of his disgusting drink.

"No," replied Leia firmly, "I think they found a real murderer but it was someone they wouldn't dare to convict because of the repercussions."

"Darth Vader," hissed Luke as his eyes glazed over with fear.

"Yep," agreed Han, "that solves the case. Tarkin, old bird, survived the Death Star but got transferred to some other _secret_ project. He gets a little too much power and Vader decides to end this once and for all."

"You're forgetting something," said Leia scathingly, "why would Vader kill him here and dump him in a swimming pool where everyone could find the body?"

"_Message_, it sends out a loud clear message to anyone wanting to mess with his Sithliness."

"_Please_, Han, I doubt the Imperials need to be kept in line. _I_ think there's a lot more here than we originally realised. We need to do a bit of investigating."

"Mistress Leia," said C3PO suddenly, "I have an alternative suggestion."

"Ah, shut up Goldrod!"

"No go ahead, 3PO!"

"Well, it seems to me that Mistress Leia's theory is absolutely correct but logically speaking, I do believe that someone in the Alliance delegation is the culprit. After all the Andamans did seem very keen to keep the Rebellion happy in the last few negotiations I attended. Perhaps all the investigations are just to appease the Imperials."

"Well said, you good for nothing piece of -,"

"Honestly, Han, 3PO has a point. I mean the first suspects on the list are the Alliance delegation. We have the motive!"

"Yes, but which one of those spineless delegates is going to strike out on a limb and murder a guy that's to all intent and purposes _dead_?" demanded Han. "I mean if the big brass knew that Tarkin was still alive, I think we'd be the first to hear about it."

"Perhaps someone ran into him and decided to kill him on the spur of the moment," suggested Luke innocently, to which Han made a rude hand gesture.

"Chewie, will you take him back to his room? He's not yet sober," said Leia blandly, "and we are not going to get anywhere with wild speculation. We need to gather hard evidence."

"Well," snapped Han as he rose unsteadily to his feet, "ring me when you've broken into Darth Vader's mind 'cos there's potentially a lot of things I wanna know – like if he plans to marry Luke!"

"Get out!"

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 08.00 HOURS – THE COMMUNAL ATRIUM, PENTHOUSE**

The silence was suffocating but the serving droids were programmed without human sense and they continued to dish out food like mindless drones.

The large polished table that was bought in every morning for the communal breakfast was crowded with seated delegates.

Across from the Alliance's side of the table, sat Darth Vader surrounded by a platoon of bland looking diplomats and some of the 501st Legion.

No one was eating much, least of all Han who having appointed himself guardian of Luke's virtue had decided to keep a close (and hostile) eye on the Dark Lord of the Sith and everyone had notice that the Dark Lord's eyes rested solely on young Luke Skywalker.

Large bowls of native fruit were bought in with fresh sweet bread, salads and cold meats of unknown species. The droids, unimaginative in their programming, were hastily dishing out portions of food according to each person's dietary needs.

"It has come to our attention," said one of the oldest and most senior Imperial diplomats, "that the body of what we all presume to be Moff Tarkin was discovered last night in the communal swimming pool."

Several Alliance members visibly tensed as though getting ready for a physical confrontation but Luke knew exactly was coming next.

"We have great faith that the Andaman government will be able to solve this case and bring the perpetrators to justice. That said; I believe we should get back to the real task at hand."

There was a visible sigh of relief from both sides of the table and the tension abated somewhat. The murder was now somebody else's problem, unless the killer really was someone in the Alliance.

Luke found himself subtly surveying the team that the War Council had assembled for this diplomatic nightmare. Greein was back from his interrogating and looked the worse for wear. Four old gnarled diplomats huddled together at the end of that table in their own exclusive little clique. Wedge, Wes and Hobbie were happily savouring dubious looking pieces of meat, whilst Leia and Chewie were being more frugal in their approach to breakfast.

None of his friends would have the means or motive to remove Moff Tarkin. Leia had been with him all night; the pilots have been playing a conspicuous game of sabaac with Han and Chewie in the casino. That left Greein who had discovered the body and the four elderly diplomats who Luke had never talked to. From appearances they looked as if the exertions of eating breakfast could be fatal to their frail physique but Luke had seen the old men in action and they were tough – but not strong enough to overpower Moff Tarkin. Then there was Greein, a quite reserved person who remained studiously polite and yet determinately vague to everyone who approached him. According to Leia he liked music, ballet and fine art and from his physique he seemed to be type of man that could not do a push up to save the Rebellion. That covered all the bases from Luke's point of view.

The Imperials on the other hand had even more plausible alibis. A small task of retrieving footage off R2 confirmed that all the diplomats had been at the casino for the whole night. The three officers that had accompanied Darth Vader had been eating in the establishment next door during the time of the murder, which just left Lord Vader himself and an undeterminable number of stormtroopers left to be accounted for. Like Han said, Vader could easily be the chief culprit but Luke knew instinctively that this was wrong.

As Luke finished his musing and salad leaves, he found that breakfast was coming to a close and the next round of negotiations was about to begin.

Leia dressed in all her finery was carefully adjusting her elaborate hairstyle without the aid of a mirror. The rest of the guests were quickly dispersing to make last minute arrangements before the leaving for another morning's worth of work.

Han, who would usually be accompanying Leia and the other diplomats, was 'indisposed' and instead Wedge would be acting as her official body guard. Wes and Hobbie were going to watch their captain's moment of glory from the chamber balconies and Chewie was going just to keep an extra eye out for trouble.

Luke politely declined a chance involved in the whole fiasco more out of ulterior motive than good sense. _He_ was going to do some much needed sleuthing.

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 10.00 HOURS – WATERLILY CASINO AND BAR, LEVEL 12**

The famous Waterlily casino and bar catered for every background, or at least that was what the brochure claimed. Luke found it hard to imagine Han and Chewie enjoying the 'unimaginable delight of a Peruvian madbath with a negotiable number of _escorts_' but here were more conventional modes of entertainment on offer.

The bar was a great oval island in the middle of the vast marble hall. Behind the actual bench top and bar stools was an impressive collection of galactic liqueur spanning at least two storeys. Small floating droid units were used to retrieve items from the upper shelves, as well as to keep a watchful electronic eye on the clientele.

The hall was empty as expected by the human bar tender had already arrived to make arrangement for the night's activities. He looked older than one might have expected but still with an air of casual handsomeness that suggested not all his tips were solely due to his serving skills.

"Hello," said Luke solemnly as he settled down at the bar and placed his credit tab on the counter.

"The bar isn't open until 1800 hours," said the bar man amicably.

"I'm just here for the company," replied Luke with a wryly smile.

The bar tender simply raised his eyebrows and went back to polishing a spotless glass.

"My friends were all here last night, you might have seen them," said Luke after a moment of comfortable silence.

"They would be the card players in the casino," stated the bar tender quietly, "and the wookiee with the human friend, and," after a thoughtful pause he continued, "the ambassador."

That made Luke looked up with interest,

"The delegates were elsewhere last night," said Luke curiously.

"Well, someone came in here and introduced herself as an Alliance delegate. She didn't have a credit tab with her so I had to serve her on faith."

"_Her?_" asked Luke wondering all of a sudden when this investigation had spiralled out of his control.

"Yes, I took her at her word. There was no harm in handing over a simple Vespa."

"All the Alliance delegates are definitely male with the exception of princess Leia who was with me in the penthouse all last night."

The bar tender gave a nonchalant shrug as though such questions of identity were of no interest.

"What did she look like?" asked Luke hoping to regain some semblance of control.

"Tall, dark haired, human. It's honestly quite hard to remember when you have to serve hundreds of clients every night..."

Another pause, but a lingering one this time as words unsaid hung in the air between the two conservationists.

"Well, perhaps you could serve me some snacks while we sit and chat," said Luke calmly as he pushed his credit tab towards the bar tender.

A small silvery bowl of questionable content appeared from under the counter and his credit tab disappeared just as quickly, only to come back with another electronic mark on the back.

"So what made this woman so memorable?" asked Luke as he pulled out a fish shaped snack and munched it.

"Nothing, apart from the fact she had a painting tucked under her arm, and the fact that she ordered a Vespa," replied the bar tender as he carefully arranged several priceless bottles of blossom wine in a special display case.

"A painting?"

"Not a large painting, nor a well wrapped on at that. Even I could see some of the picture under the strobe lights."

"What was the picture?"

"A house, I think, one of those dainty rural paintings that are so fashionable on Andaman at the moment. Nice little pink house by a river with a boat and pier."

"Well you certainly saw a lot," commented Luke

"She laid the painting face up on the bench, everyone at the bar got a good look at the item. She said she got it from an auction at the art gallery on level 15."

"Did you get her name at all?" asked Luke as the nagging feeling that he was somehow being lead astray from his original intentions began to dawn on him.

"No, as I said she just wanted a Vespa and a seat. No harm in that. I could hardly refuse to serve an Alliance delegate whether or not they had credit tab. _That _would be a diplomatic disaster."

"Just a Vespa."

"Yep, cheap, non-alcholic, haven't had an order of that drink in all the time I've worked here. It's always something luxurious or potent, mostly both, so I was out of practise and she wasn't completely satisfied."

It seemed harmless enough for them to be chatting out this mysterious woman with her painting and simple tastes but Luke was sure that everything that transpired here would make its way to the Andaman security force.

"Did she complain at all, want another drink?"

"No, she needed to be on her way to something or other. It would have been about 2000 hours when she arrived, and she only stayed for one drink."

"Thanks, but I'll needed to know more about her appearance because she's definitely an imposer and -,"

"You'll be reporting this to the security force,"

"Yes,"

"Well, she was tall for a human female, Caucasian, long thin nose and no makeup, dark brown eyes, and neatly plucked eyebrows. She was wearing a dark blue evening dress with a bunch of rosebuds tied to one shoulder."

"Nothing else?"

The bar tender appeared to be searching his memory for a moment,

"Nope, can't be of much more use to you or the security team if they're listening, which they are. Perhaps she was simply a security operative in disguise, decided to get a free drink on the house."

Luke wasn't convinced but he had gained a new piece of information. It was now time to check R2's footage to see if he had managed to capture an image of this imposter.

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 12.00 HOURS – THE COMMUNAL ATRIUM, PENTHOUSE**

Han was still glowering at Darth Vader from the safety of the balcony. Unfortunately the safety quickly dissipated when the said Sith decided to scale the stairs.

"Where is young Skywalker?"

Standing his ground against the fearsome giant, Han cocked his head to one side and assumed a bad attitude.

"What's it to you?"

Suddenly he was lifted into the air by an invisible force and dragged forwards until he was nose to helmet with the Sith Lord. _Had he been a lesser man_, thought Han, _he might have lost control of something important, like his bowels. _

"Captain Solo," rumbled the Dark Lord with a casualness that bordered on amusement, "_it_ is of great importance to me."

Han opened his mouth to spit out a smart reply but gravity abruptly intervened and he dropped two feet onto his backside with a resounding thud.

"Leave him alone!"

Luke came charging out of his suite and placed his small frame squarely between Han and Darth Vader.

"Young Skywalker, I take it that you are well."

"I'm fine, well – I would be if you would just leave me and my friends alone. I'm sick of you harassing us! If you don't stop I'll complain to the Andaman government!"

Technically it was a good threat…if Leia had been delivering it. Unfortunately, Han knew that it would probably only serve to make Vader more interested in his quarry. After all, the Dark Lord looked like the kind of person who would get excited by a chase.

"I am not harassing you," stated Vader evenly as he advanced towards Luke. "I heard about your _discovery_."

For a moment Luke, in his naivety, actually looked shocked but he quickly recovered.

"Mind your own business," said Luke firmly, "unless you want to confess that the 'delegate' was actually an Imperial Spy."

"No, I merely came to say that no one matching the description works or is in any way associated with my command. Be sure to relay this to the Princess. _I_ will not be so _patient _the next time she accuses me of trying to sabotage this diplomatic mission."

"What?" said Luke, looking far too clueless for Han's taste; he really needed to teach the boy to _act._

"Kid, Leia's already heard all about the imposter from the security forces, not an unreasonable deduction," said Han eyeing Darth Vader with defiance.

"Your opinions do not concern me Captain Solo," said Vader menacingly,

"Look," Luke interrupted quickly, "I'll tell Leia what you said, now will you go away?"

"Very well, be careful young one,"

With those parting words that sent shivers down Han's spine, Vader stalked away like a mythical creature leaving Luke fuming with indignation.

"You know what kid," said Han jovially, "he _definitely _has the hots for you!"

* * *

**AN: Right this is the first update in months, apologies to all Illusionist and Manipulator fans. I am writing, just really really slowly in between sweating over papers that actually need writing. **

**Please review... hope to get more chapters up soon. **


	4. All Things Laid Bare

**

* * *

**

Title:

Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 4. All Things Laid Bare

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**Author:** Wellingtonboots

**Archive:** Slytherin Serpent,

**Status:** Short Multi-chapter

* * *

Osprey Eamon: Well, this story started off as a serious murder mystery but then Han got the liqueur and Vader got his needs – paternal needs that it. Glad you like it!

Frodogenic: wow, I am a big fan of your stories, thanks for reviewing! This story has got a great revival after the renewed interest of readers.

Lukelover1222: more updates on the way, I've managed to squeeze out sleep (so overrated) to do this!

Rusalkaz: Han is a man of the world and he'll just keep adding assumptions to his repertoire – some of them are going to get quite disturbing (and amusing) indeed.

Ann Jinn: Han/Vader all the way! Thanks for the review.

ILDV: Thanks for the review, any particular parts you like? Suggestions are most welcome.

Phantom-jedi1: I love suspense and drama and Han has just the spark to ignite all that gunpowder (and he's responsible for stockpiling it in the first place). If you think this is disturbing wait til you see what he thinks up next.

Kage Mirai: Thanks for the encouragement, it really keeps me focused!

* * *

**26****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.00 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Dinner was over and Luke ducked back into his apartment as quickly as he could before Darth Vader could follow him. It was bad enough having to endure the Dark Lord's undivided attention at every waking moment but the gossip that followed was far worse. Han, having appointed himself guardian of Luke's virtue, was now trailing him like a stalker in need of a restraining order.

"Let me in, little piggie," said Han as he banged on Luke's door, "I promise I haven't come to ra-,"

"Shut up!" snapped Luke as he slammed the door release and sent Han tumbling onto the sky blue carpet.

"Really, you should be glad it was just me and not -,"

"Look I've had enough of this! You're really not helping the situation by telling everyone who will listen that Vader is somehow sexually attracted to me!"

"Well, it is the only explanation," said Han sheepishly, "I mean it's not your fault, you're not encouraging him or anything."

"Oh well from what I've heard, everyone seems to think _differently_!"

"Hobbie was only joking with you -,"

Suddenly Han stopped mid sentence and stared over Luke's shoulder with an expression of great confusion.

"What?" asked Luke, feeling increasingly annoyed.

"You've been buying art, kid?" said Han quietly as he pointed at the wall behind Luke.

A stab of irrational fear prompted Luke to swing around with much more speed than necessary and he gasped in surprise.

There, hanging innocuously above the dark blue sofa, was a portrait of a small pink house standing on the banks of a sparking river with a graceful, sleek boat floating serenely in the foreground.

"Oh stars, it's the _picture!_"

"Well, it's not the most romantic gift he could have got you. I mean compared to the Emperor's head on a platter that painting just makes Vader look miserly."

"How did it get in here? I was only out for half an hour at the most," said Luke trying to contain his panic. As much as he understood that the Andaman security forces were entitled to constantly invade his privacy, this was a step too far.

"His Sithliness wanted to surprise you," answered Han as he contemplated the portrait with fake admiration. "It's cute though, maybe he really wants to retire and marry-,"

"Shut up," snapped Luke distractedly, as the phrase had become second nature to their turbulent conversations. "What are the Andamans trying to do? Tell me to back off?"

"Look," said Han seriously, "I think you should just give it a rest. They didn't like you nosing around that bar, so they got the bar tender to drop you a couple of fake hints and then voila you get your biggest clue hanging on your wall."

"Han, I can't back off, something is going here that is so much bigger than this negotiation, I can feel it."

"Uh," muttered Han sceptically, "you getting one of those force induced headaches again?"

"It's called feeling a tremor in the force," said Luke with exasperation

"Whatever, don't say I didn't warn you," grumbled Han as he moved over to the vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table and casually ripped off a delicate violet flower.

"I just need to find out more about this woman…"

"She doesn't exist, kid. Leia thinks the barman was just making it all up and the joke's on you." Bits of mangled purple flowers floated to the floor as Han carelessly tossed his handiwork away. "Come to the casino tonight and play some sabacc, take your mind off all this junk."

"But-,"

"You might find someone to interrogate," suggested Han with a twisted smile, "someone with a nice figure and gorgeous-,"

"Okay, I get it," said Luke looking disgusted. "I'm not coming. I'm going to do some _real _investigation."

Han produced an exaggerated sigh and threw himself onto the sofa in with his typical attitude.

"Well, I'd guess I better tag along"

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 20.00 HOURS – WATERLILY CASINO AND BAR, LEVEL 12**

Wes and Hobbie, the heroes of Yavin and greatest pilots in the Alliance, were strutting across the Waterlily night club with a pair of equally vain members of the opposite sex. Wedge had forfeited his right to a companion when he decided to hit the bar and poison his nervous system but perhaps the reason nobody had yet asked the gin soaked captain to dance was because of the menacing seven foot wookiee standing right beside him.

Chewie was feeling every bit as homicidal as the bar tender who had just been unequivocally informed by a platoon of stormtroopers that his serving skills were substandard and his glasses unhygienic. It was no surprise for those who were still sober enough to notice that the bar tender took extra care to drop a large dollop of cleaning gel into every drink he was remaking.

It was only when seven stormtroopers fled from their seats, clutching their mouths in silent agony, did Chewie realise that he was not the only one who was refusing to partake in the evening's entertainment. The cleared seats provided a good view of the other drinkers still propped upright by a unique combination of luck and skill but one woman looked out of place.

She was, like the others, fighting a losing battle against gravity but something about her stance simply occurred to Chewie as peculiar. Having spent the last few years of his life frequenting hives of scum and villainy, he had seen every conceivable state of drunkenness and this woman was not drunk. She was making a fair attempt at masking the fact but not enough to fool a former smuggler.

The blond lady looked well past her prime but scientific intervention had been so enthusiastic at keeping the wrinkles and sagging at bay that her face reminded him of a kaadu skin being stretched in a tannery.

_There was definitely something odd about this woman and it was time to get a closer look. _

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 20.50 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

"I've analysed every single frame of the holo from last night," shouted Han in the general direction of the refresher. There was no answer except for a faint splash; Luke was probably pretending to be a fish again.

When Luke had turned to him hours earlier with his famous Skywalker defiance and informed Han that there was no way in the Nine Hells of Corellia he would give up this twisted quest, the former smuggler turned rebel had no idea this investigation involved trawling through three hours of video footage frame by frame…on his own while Luke indulged his love for water.

He had promised to stick with the boy in case Luke decided to take up the stress relieving sport of Imperial beating, but Luke had proved once again that he did not possess Han's superior sense of humour.

_The Imperials had unfortunately missed a spectacular beating but looking on the bright side,_ he thought, _Darth Vader wouldn't be getting any free "kicks" from viewing a certain sweat slicked Skywalker. _

However, that silver lining was shot down a few minute before the ornate azure clock was due to strike ten.

Had he been cursed with force induced foresight, Han would have seriously considered moving the said clock to a safer location when the time came for its appointed demise but being completely free of intracellular parasitic microorganisms he simply admired the craftsmanship from the comfort of the sofa. Unfortunately it was only after a lengthy appraisal of the artwork did Han realise exactly what time it was.

"Hurry up kid, it's nearly nine o'clock, the sabacc tables are filling up!"

No response,

"Kid! Come on, you can take a bath some other time!"

Still no response,

"I swear I'm going to knock the door down!"

Han, in his determination to get to the casino before all the winnings of the evening were pocketed by completely undeserving, poorly skilled lowlifes, tried one last tactic.

"You know, if you stay in the bath for too long the skin will start peeling off your fingers."

That was when the screaming started.

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 20.53 HOURS – IMPERIAL QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

A shearing bolt of pure agony ripped through Vader's mind, forcing him to believe for a moment that his suit had malfunctioned but as he drew on his own pain for strength, he realised his son was screaming for help.

Vader reacted out of pure instinct and as he tore through the penthouse suite he felt an emotion that he thought long gone – utter terror.

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 20.54 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

"Kid!"

Han was throwing himself at the refresher door like an infuriated wookiee but even a real wookiee could not have broken a durasteel lock from the outside.

The screams and frantic splashing seemed to pass right through the thick metal, as if Luke was right next to him rolling in agony.

Heart pounding, arms shaking from pain and fear, Han drew his blaster.

"I'm coming!"

He aimed at the lock and squeezed the trigger as hard as he could, as if it would somehow make a difference. Bolts of red light exploded on the lock but dissipated with a hiss leaving nothing more than a scorch mark.

"Damn it!"

He squeezed the trigger again as Luke's screams reached a crescendo but to his utter astonishment another streak of crimson light arched over his head and burnt right through the lock.

A huge black figure pushed him aside and kicked the door open with one smooth gesture.

Then, before Han's mind had completely registered the last few seconds, he saw Vader pulling Luke from a seething mass of water onto his lap.

"Let go of him!"

As Han ran forwards to help, his head smashed into an invisible pane of glass and it was moments before he regained his senses.

When he came to, Han saw that the Dark Lord of the Sith had whipped off his cloak and was now drying a heaving, sobbing, naked Luke. The boy was still alive but his body was red and raw as if he had been flayed alive but as Vader wiped each part of Luke's body dry, the redness subsided almost instantly.

Eventually after several heart-stopping minutes, Luke simply lay panting in exhaustion support only by Vader's thighs as the Dark Lord knelt on the wet floor of refresher.

* * *

When the pain finally cleared from his mind, Luke got his first really look at his saviour…and leapt to his feet screaming.

Unfortunately, the menacing cape Vader had always worn was tangled around his legs and he simply fell back right into Vader's arms.

"Get off me!"

Kicking in vain to free his legs, Luke only made the situation worse by knotting the cape firmly around his ankles, leaving the rest of his body utterly bare.

"Help!"

Han was metres away, gaping like a beached whale and offering no assistance.

"Stop that!" snarled Vader as he gripped Luke's thin body to his chest and bought his left knee up to support Luke's back. "You will make it worse."

"It can't get any worse!"

Fate decided to spite him then because at that moment Leia rushed in with curlers flying off her hair in all directions.

Sitting on the Dark Lord's lap, dripping wet and completely naked, Luke could only think of one thing to say:

"It's not what you think…"

* * *

**AN: Well, considering Vader never got to hold a scream, squirming, naked baby Luke, I say it was high time he got the chance to experience all aspects of fatherhood. **

**Please review! It really keeps me going!**


	5. Cream of Tartar

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 5. Cream of Tartar

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**Author:** Wellingtonboots

**Archive:** Slytherin Serpent,

**Status:** Short Multi-chapter

* * *

**-**

**AN: New Chapter! Thank you for everyone who has bothered to stick with me!**

**-**

**-**

* * *

**26th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 21.00 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

"Generalized exfoliative dermatitis can occur when the patient comes into contact with a foreign substance which is able to cross the epithelial barrier and cause a hypersensitive immune reaction," said the Andaman doctor calmly as he examined Luke's arm.

"Ah, in basic please," said Han wearily,

"Captain Solo, Captain Skywalker had an allergic reaction to the bubble bath in his bath water," stated the medic simply as he gently returned Luke's hand to its original position and picked up the datapad.

"What? Bubble bath! Hey, are _you_ telling me this all just happened by accident!" snapped Han.

"He was screaming in pain," protested Leia.

"Acute inflammatory reactions cause the release of chemical mediators such as histamine and bradykinin which stimulate the nociceptive fibres -,"

"Doctor, please," hissed Leia in exasperation, "we do not understand your medical jargon."

Han, being much less diplomatic, uttered a string of curses in huttese and wondered out loud why this particularly specimen of idiocracy had been assigned to them.

With an almost insolent sigh the doctor slipped a piece of filmsiplast into Leia's hands,

"This is prescription for some steroid cream, apply three times a day. I'll take my leave now."

Before Han could maneuver around the bed and get a tight grip around the doctor's neck, the dispassionate man made a speedy exit.

"Get his name," muttered Han malevolently, "he's second on the list,"

"So who's number one?" asked Leia with mild interest as she studied the hastily scrawled prescription.

"_Darth Vader_."

* * *

**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 12.00 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Yesterday seemed so far away to Wes Janson as he stumbled out of the refresher with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Scratching himself idly on a table fixture, he made use of his free hands to open up his message box.

A barrage of over excited voices pierced the air,

"Oh star! You'd never guess-,"

"So unbelievable-,"

"Skywalker! By the force…"

A distinct feeling of unease settled over Janson as he continued to listen; he was missing something big and that would have be rectified.

* * *

Panting desperately, Hobbie scrambled into the alcove behind a statue just in time as a small squadron of stormtroopers blazed through the corridor radiating pent up aggression.

The disc was still tucked safely in his jacket and he was not about to part with it for all the gold on Ralltiir.

* * *

Wedge paced nervously between the holovid and the sofa whilst the clocked ticked ominously in the background.

At precisely thirteen seconds and ten minutes past noon, two sets of desperate footsteps rushed to his door. _Late but forgivable_, he thought.

"I have it, I have the video," Hobbie, ever ready to jump into the limelight, pulled the holodisc from his jacket with elaborate drama.

"What did I miss?" cried Wes as he bolted through the door.

"Only the most embarrassing news since Wynessa Starflare married Soontir Fel!"

"Are you sure the Imperials did not get to the disc first," demanded Wedge tersely.

"Nope, and I don't think _Lord_ Vader will be telling anyone about it either," said Hobbie barely containing himself.

"Good, because we have an agreement with Vader. The Andamans no doubt already know but the information will not leave this room, do you understand?"

"Will someone just fill me in?" snapped Wes.

"Play the disc, Hobbie. I need to see whether you got the right thing anyway,"

A sharp, coloured image appeared in the holoprojector and all three men leaned forwards in anticipation.

* * *

**27th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 14.00 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Chewbacca slipped quietly into Luke's room with a tub of steroid cream in one hand and the unreadable prescription in the other. His heightened sense of smell told him that he had not been the only visitor and his keen eye sight informed him that everything was being recorded by the tiny cameras dotted around the room.

Just as Chewie approached the bed, Luke turned over and gave him a sleepy smile.

"Hey, Chewie, what time is it?"

Not bothering to point to the ornate bejewelled clock sitting on the mantelpiece, Chewie presented his 'get-well' gift.

"Thanks, buddy," murmured Luke hoarsely. "I'm going to be fine."

_Not if you keep telling the whole world what you're up to_, thought Chewie skeptically, but seen as everyone had already tried to dissuade Luke from continuing his private quest, Chewie decided to save his breath.

"So, how's life?"

Giving several short non-committal growls, Chewie started to shuffle restlessly around the room.

"Oh, that's wonderful, anything else happening?"

Using a seemingly random pattern, Chewie managed to wander into the bathroom.

"I mean Han says you guys won loads of money two days ago, but he seems to have spent everything already. He was even asking me for a loan!"

Chewie gave a grunt of affirmation and shut the bathroom door behind him.

The refresher had been scrubbed clean, detoxified and even repainted. The new glimmering layer of varnish on the tiles made even fingerprinting impossible. The bath had been replaced and oddly, the security camera that had once been perched on top of the sink had been removed. The Andamans were no long interested in monitoring the refresher and that was a disturbing thought.

As Chewie had predicted, the pipes had not been changed and as he carefully removed the covering of the bath drain he was pleased to note that the exposed pipe was tarnished and gray.

Taking out a simple swab kit he had taken from the mobile medical facility that was still hovering listlessly in the atrium, he carefully wiped the sides of the drain pipe and sealed the swab kit once more.

The whole procedure had been disturbing easy, as though some mysterious entity had already predicted his move and had allowed him to make it.

Saying goodbye to Luke proved much harder as the boy had hoped he would at least stay for a while but Chewie did not have time to explain everything to him right now. The theories he had formulated could wait for a better time and a more private place.

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**27th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 14.30 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

"Preliminary test results show that the chemicals isolated from the pipe swab include, sodium hydroxide, nitric acid, cream of tartar -,"

"What?" snapped Han as he fervently searched through his luggage, "what in the galaxy is cream of _tar__-__tart_?"

"Tartar," replied Leia in her most officious voice "is the common place name for potassium hydrogen tartrate, most commonly used in gourmet cooking."

"Some guy dumped baking powder into Luke's bath? This just gets weirder and weirder."

"Well there's really no clue to the identity of the perpetrators, anyone could buy this stuff or extract it from common household chemicals," said Leia. She had hoped that they would now have at least some clue as to who had tried to kill Luke. Although Han clearly thought that the whole incident had been nothing more than a warning. In his opinion, on Andaman there was no such thing as _attempted _murder.

Han, who was buried head first in a standard issue duffle bag, now emerged with his hair in disarray and several balls of fluff stuck to his shirt.

"Princess, you haven't by any chance seen a small blue bag with the world Aspirin printed on the side have you?"

He looked terribly sheepish and Leia, having spent far too much time with the scoundrel, felt a sense of imminent disaster.

"What was in it?"

After a slightly long pause Han smiled roguishly and muttered,

"Some money…"

"How much?"

"Let just say, enough to tide me over 'til the galaxy implodes,"

Leia stared at him incredulously. Han was much worse at managing money than he was at obtaining it through unscrupulous means and this resulted in him being permanently short of cash. Even at his prime in the smuggling world, Han had not been swimming in gold. His takings amounted to no more than, what Leia believed, a comfortable executive salary.

"How exactly did you get this much?" demanded Leia, trying to keep her voice even.

"You know the sabbac tables, well me an' Chewie had some really good takings. He asked me to keep his share."

"I know for a fact that the casino refuses to allow any client to leave the premises with more than fifty thousand credits," said Leia curtly. "Exactly how did you make up the difference?"

This time Han looked almost as if he was being interrogated at blaster point.

"Well, the Imperials, they were still up for a game or too after we left, a few days ago I managed to persuade them to part with their money over a bet,"

"What in the stars did you make them bet on?"

There was a tense silence as Han tried to find the correct way of phrasing his dilemma.

"I bet them that they could never bump anyone off under the eyes of the Andaman government. Now they seem to have taken their money back."

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**AN: Please review, feedback good or bad always means the world to authors, it shows us that someone out there is still interested **


	6. In Vitro

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 6. _In Vitro_

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: Wow so many reviews! It's meant so much to me to see that someone is actually enjoying my writing - if you like Luke/Vader I have a new story called Twelve Roses. **

Smiley: So glad that I've manage to entertain you – more humour on the way

Dlsky: I love murder mysteries and it's a real pity that there aren't more of them around in the SW universe. My writing can be a little disjointed at times but I'm glad you like the jumping about.

: I think I just automatically rate my stories U because I don't normally write anything vaguely inappropriate. I think I will change the rating, thank you for telling me.

Skedaddle – I love Han as a character – he's always so cocky and I love Han and Vader interactions because Han will say and do everything everyone else is too afraid to.

Verse Naberrie – No spoilers but your scenario is not too farfetched.

Carrie2Sky – Have I confused you with the last chapter? Thank you for the review and sticking with me!

Keera – it wouldn't be a good mystery without a splash of intrigue but Han is not about to be "screwed over by a troop of bucketheads".

ILDV – Thank you for the review and all your consistent support!

She-who-has-a-very-long-name – I love your pen name and Han is not going to get any better, I really can't imagine him giving up all his smuggler vices, ever.

Zigflorian – thank you!

sweetyamiyugigirl – mmm, heads will roll but not by Darth Vader's hand

iloveluke1222 – thanks for the review – more humour on the way next chapter.

Happyfish – resolution to the nudity crisis is not forthcoming - more embarrassing scenes on the way!

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 15.00 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Princess Leia was not used to pacing around like a caged nexu but right now she could not find a better analogy to describe the situation. Too many things, seeming unrelated but definitely entwined by some yet unknown logic, were happening. The attempted death by baking powder was just the tip of the iceberg. Something much bigger, more insidious and infinitely nastier was lurking just below the surface. Unfortunately, carrying on her allegory, Leia wasn't even sure if her metaphorically fragile seafaring vessel had hit the iceberg or not.

Han was still looking for his bag of cash in a vain attempt to absolve himself of any blame. He had point blank refused to give her the names of his fellow gamblers but she was sure they must have been low ranking stormtroopers at best. The social hierarchy was ruthlessly enforced in the Imperial navy and no officer could afford to be seen associating with a smuggler.

"You know, if the Imperials were responsible for the murder, they would be much keener to pin the suspicion us," said Han desperately. "I mean I can't believe they actually managed to kill someone under the Andaman's noses. It was just a stupid bet and I'm sure they decided it was fair to take their winnings back…"

"Han, has it ever occurred to you to ask why a bunch of renegade stormtroopers could raise so much money for a betting pool?" demanded Leia as she watched him turn his room upside down.

"Darling, what makes you think they were stormtroopers?" asked Han finally seeing that his silence was not going to do them any good. "I – well – I was betting with some big fish."

"I highly doubt the right honourable Admiral Piett would condescend to acknowledge your existence."

"Oh really? Well even His Exalted Lordship, Darth Vader, acknowledges my existence."

"That's only because you happened to appear beside Luke too often."

"Princess, the bag is gone. I'm not going to find it, am I?" asked Han. This was the closest he ever came to asking rhetorical questions, after all what was the point in asking a question when you didn't want to know the answer?

"I can't see _how_ the Imperials could break into your room and take a bag of cash without setting off our alarms."

"They got much more than you think, princess. I bet those Andamans let them too. I bet they just let them walk right in my door and pick through my things," said Han angrily as he heaved the sofa back into place.

"Maybe you might want to dig through the cushions for some spare change," said Leia sarcastically as Han upended another piece of upholstery. Giving her his trademark scowl, the smuggler tore through the various pieces of frivolous cloth in the vain hope that his money bag had evolved sentience and was now hiding in some obscure piece of soft furnishing.

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 15.00 HOURS – CHEWBACCA'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Undertaking two missions at the same time was against Chewbacca's work ethos. His late mother had a habit of saying, "doing by halves is worse than doing nothing at all" but right now Chewie had no choice.

Two suspicious women had spontaneously appeared after the murder and both were brazen enough to sit at the Waterlily bar in full view, knowing that they would be indentified as strangers.

According to Occam's Razor, the most logical conclusion was that both women were intelligence operative working for the Amandam government but that raised the question of why so obviously?

Someone had decided to send Luke Skywalker a very strong message about poking his long human nose into unwanted business, now as Chewie sat in his suite brooding away he knew who was going to be next.

Looking at the holo he had taken of the not-so-drunk blonde leaning against the bar, Chewie scrutinised her facial features. She looked generically attractive, and her evening dress did not stand out against the background of shimmering haute couture. However there was one defining feature that only showed up on magnification, a small round scar at the back of her neck, nearly obscured by her elaborate hairstyle. Taking a closer look, Chewie drew back in astonishment,

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 15.00 HOURS – WEDGE'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

After the excitement of the scandalous tape finally wore off and every conceivable joke had been told twice, Wedge, Wes and Hobbie collapsed onto the soft blue carpet of Wedge's room.

Hobbie was still speechless with laughter, clutching his side in a vain attempt to still his jerking chest. Wes, ever the joker, decided to make this much harder by tickling him mercilessly.

With another howl of mirth the two pilots, who would under Imperial directive be labelled "mentally retarded", rolled across the floor like overgrown toddlers.

Suddenly Wes ceased his assault and sat up with a nasty gleam in his eye.

"You know what we should do?" he said, voice quivering with excitement.

Having spent far too much time watching the disastrous consequences of Wes Janson's "brilliant ideas", Wedge wondered why he was still intrigued to hear this one. Every time Janson had made the world come crashing down around Wedge's ears, he had vowed to never let Wes stuck him into another hair-brained scheme but every time he would inevitably give into temptation.

"What?" asked Hobbie, clambering up from the floor with anticipation. Hobbie never had any qualms about following Wes into oblivion; his philosophy on life consisted solely of the phrase: "enjoy the moment, future be damned!"

"We have to stop Vader from molesting Luke!" cried Wes, his true passionate concern for their friend shining through a layer of mischief.

"Definitely," said Hobbie, rushing to second the idea but Wedge frowned with concern, as noble as Wes Janson could be his methods left much to the desired. Whoever said the end justifies the means had clearly not taken people like Janson into consideration.

"Okay, I have the perfect way of making Vader leave Luke alone forever!" exclaimed Wes rubbing his hands together with glee, barely able to contain his exhilaration.

"Let hear it then," said Wedge feeling utterly resigned,

"Well," said Wes, his smile twisting into something not quite pleasant, "it involves a _dress_."

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.00 HOURS – CHEWBACCA'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

It had taken Chewbacca an hour to track down the document he had been looking for: The Alliance guide to Andaman, co-authored by Greenin and Faroque. Having skimmed casually through it on the journey here, Chewie had found the writing dull and information illogically presented but one paragraph had stuck in his mind.

"_The Andaman government banned Human Cyborgs during the Clone Wars due to a popular fear of droids. Droids disguised as humans have been around for several centuries but at the start of the Clone Wars Sienar Systems developed the newest innovation in organic engineering that rendered their Cyborgs indistinguishable from a real human being under all organic scanners at the time."_

If one world was needed to sum up the Andaman government, it was _fear_. Fear of the outside galaxy, fear of dependence, fear of powerlessness, fear of the unknown.

The Andamans had banned all external trade, portable plasma heaters, magnetic toys and a whole host of other more ridiculous things. The system was gripped with fear and when people become fearful it was very hard to convince them to stop. Fear was a contagious disease that afflicted the knowledgeable and ignorant alike, the top echelons of Andaman society had not been spared.

It was only logical then that the twenty year old ban on human Cyborgs had never been lifted and the Andamans, like his late mother, did not do things by halves. They had invested heavily in organic scanning technology to detect unauthorised personnel and droids. They prided themselves on having the most sophisticated scanning and identity technology in the known universe.

Having taken all this into account, Chewie felt his mind buzzing with questions, the first and foremost being:

_Why was there a human cyborg leaning against the bar last night?_

For, the sober blonde at the bar was a _droid_.

The tell tale mark at the back of her neck was the portable by which her organic human brain had been sucked out as a foetus and the computer terminal put in. Before today, Chewie had only heard vague rumours that such procedures could be performed but he knew the scar left by a brain probe when he saw one, and he had seen many. Jabba the Hutt had a vile tendency to extract his enemies' brains and keep the pickled specimens in glass jars dangling above his slimy throne.

It was possible that this droid could get past the Andaman scanners. It had a fully organic body and if its brain was made well enough it could easily imitate the brain wave pattern of a human – they had very simple electric impulses.

It was inconceivable that the Andamans had commissioned this droid as an operative. They were a race that held onto their fears, masked as beliefs. That left the question _who?_ Who had the ability to pass a Human Cyborg into the diplomatic mission when both the Alliance and Imperials could not even smuggle _real_ guards on board. _Why?_ What party would have the motive to spy and maybe even disrupt the negotiations? Why would this mysterious entity decide to use a human cyborg of all things?

Like his later mother had said, knowledge always produces more questions.

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**AN: Please review and you will all get to see just what Wes is planning behind his evil smirk. **


	7. Salacious Scandal

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 6. Salacious Scandal

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: the times are very important to this story because the narrative skips around quite a lot so do read the words in bold or nothing will make sense.**

**Thank you to: Master Liz, Kereea, Liz, dlsky, Varya, somebody, sweetyamiyugigirl, iloveluke22, Andrea Foxx, She-who-has and ILDV. **

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 21.00 HOURS – IMPERIAL QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Admiral Piett and General Veers stood gaping at the monitor, their eyes locked on the impossible scene unfolding before them.

"Are you recording this?" asked Veers his voice barely a croak.

Piett could only nod curtly as he could already feel an invisible force closing off his wind pipe. Cold sweat was rolling down his neck and he fought to keep his breathing even.

"You still think we should show this to Lord Vader?" whisper Veers, his usual cool personality disrupted by what he had just witnessed.

"He will find out anyway, Max, that man can read minds!" hissed Piett as he watched the figure finally disappearing from view.

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 19.00 HOURS – ALLIANCE QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

When Wes Janson strolled casually into Luke's apartment wearing a frilly tent, no one batted an eyelid.

Wedge Antilles was collapsed on the couch, writing out his thoughts on the negotiations that morning, whilst devouring a freshly made pastry. Han Solo sat besides him looking terse.

"He's in the bathroom," said Wedge without looking up from his work. Han merely grunted a greeting and went back to glaring at the clock.

"Right," said Wes smoothly as he ruffled the frilly fabric of his garment.

"I'm out now -," came Luke's voice but he stopped dead when he saw Wes Janson standing in the middle of the room in all his frilled glory. "What _are_ you wearing?" he demanded in shock.

"It's my birthday," said Wes stoically, "this is the custom dress on Taanab for the celebration of a new year in my life. I bought it especially on this mission to celebrate."

Luke couldn't find words to reply, his eyes were still glued to the dark purple conical structure of fabric that Wes had erected around his body.

"It's true," said Wedge simply as he finished the last bite of his pastry.

"Don't look at me kid," muttered Han when Luke's wide blue eyes turned in his direction, "I've never been to that backwater of a planet."

"I've come to invite you all to my birthday party," continued Wes.

Luke raised one appraising eyebrow,

"You didn't do this _last_ year. You just made us put sheets over our heads and dance like lunatics."

"Yes, well I finally managed to get my birthday costume together – its taken me over three years to make this!"

Luke was not in the least convinced,

"Why has no-one else ever told me about this, before?"

Wedge gave a non-committal shrug,

"You're never around these days anyway," he replied with mild accusation. His tone seemed to have the pleasing effect of guilt-tripping Luke out of his suspicious mindset. Frowning in remembrance at the months he had spent on Dagobah, Luke rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Well, I'm here now…"

"Good!" cried Janson before Luke could raise his defences, "then you will all be available for the birthday dance this evening! I have booked out that nice club on level 12."

Feeling that he hadn't been given a fair chance to reject the offer, Luke nevertheless submitted to his fate. Perhaps if he did this the Rouge Squad might be able to forgive his absence in their time of need and birthdays had always meant a great deal to Wes Janson. Refusing to attend his party would be rebuffing his offer of friendship.

"You're coming too, Solo," called Wes over his shoulder as he trooped out of the room, trailing several lines of colourful fabric behind him.

Han grunted.

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 20.00 HOURS – THAT CLUB JANSON MENTIONED ON LEVEL 12**

It was not so much a club as a vast marble reception hall that had been converted at the last minute by a diligent crew of music technicians into something resembling an outdated discotheque. Even on Tatoonine where the galaxy's fashions always arrived too late to be noticed and too frivolous to be practical, Luke was accustomed to better venues.

What Han was thinking as he surveyed the strobe lights and disco ball was very apparent.

"Nice, work, Janson," he muttered sarcastically, "to think I offer to spend the night here instead of at the Casino!"

Wes was completely oblivious to Han's disgruntled mood; he was too busy ordering the catering droid to bring more alcohol. Apparently it was also the Taanab custom to wave sobriety goodbye on the eve of anyone's birthday. Hobbie was leading against the pearly marble wall wearing his characteristic smirk and a tent. His "costume" was much less elaborate and consisted of fabric that looked suspiciously like Luke's curtains. It too was arranged like a wigwam around Hobbie's body with his head sticking out of what should have been the chimney.

Thankfully Wedge was looking vaguely normal in his Alliance uniform but sometime in the last hour he had acquired a strange smock like garment with silver tassels.

"So where are all the other guests?" asked Luke as he looked around the empty reception hall.

"We're all here, kid," said Han as he flopped down on a conveniently placed chair that was to become part of the dinner ensemble.

"What about Chewie?" asked Luke looking truly perplexed, "and Leia?"

"Um -," for a moment Han looked almost uncomfortable but then his expression blossomed into a smooth smile, "they don't wanna come, kid, can you blame them?"

For the second time that day, Luke started having grave misgiving about the whole birthday scenario. To say that he had a bad feeling about this was far too cliché, but it was certainly appropriate.

As the droids assembled the dinner table and present large ornate cases of the finest alcohol available, Luke wondered around aimlessly, telling him once again that he owed this to Wes. They had come through fire and destruction together, having saved each other's lives countless times. It was only right of Luke to be with Wes on this very important day, regardless of how ridiculously dressed the birthday-boy was.

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 20.30 HOURS – THAT CLUB JANSON MENTIONED ON LEVEL 12**

Luke was drunk and wearing a dress, which as far as Wedge's not-so-alcohol-soaked mind could remember was a rare sight. Being a farmboy from Tatoonine, Luke held some rather prim and outdated values. Female escorts, gourmet food and drink were still seen as immoral and decadent by the backwards communities that existed in the far outreaches of the galaxy. On Corellia, life was a different story. As soon as he looked old enough to enter a bar, Wedge had comprehensively sampled all the earthly delights (for an affordable price).

Drink, spice and decadent living were hardly strangers to Han Solo either. The smuggler, still "stone cold sober" was making a good show of drunkenly pouring Luke another drink. Considering how hard it had been to talk Han into participating in this scheme, the smuggler was now playing his role with gusto. No one could entice Luke Skywalker to drink as well as Han Solo.

"Go on!" he cried raucously, "be a man!"

Luke, swaying dangerously, reached an uncoordinated hand out to his wine glass and missed it by several inches.

"I can't!" moaned the young pilot, his hands flaying helplessly and his head lolling to one side like a dying nerf. The dress they had procured looked sufficiently like a tent to fit in with the general décor. Its large voluminous sleeves and rolling edges made Luke look like cross-dressing Nubian Royalty.

Suddenly, seeing clearly for the first time how incapacitated Luke had become, Wedge was gripped with an onslaught of icy panic. _What in the stars were they doing? What would the Andamans think if – no when – they found out?_ _Perhaps they would chalk it down to cultural differences; perhaps they might remember what it was like to be young and irresponsible…_

As little as Wedge knew about the younger section of Andaman society, he was sure that teenagers were the same in every corner of the galaxy.

"Keep drinking!" shouted Wes Janson, who was clearly enjoying his performance of head drunk. He stood by the table twirling like a spinning top clothed in a forest of dark purple frills.

"Yeah!" cried Hobbie from across the room where he was linking up the camera.

"Ladies, please make your entrances!" cried Wedge, hoping that Luke was too intoxicated to notice that none of his companions had touched the Povlop Vodka.

Five beautifully attire young ladies arrived, each sporting a different but equally revealing evening dress.

Though Wedge had already downed several shots of Corellian Whiskey and half a bottle of blossom wine, he was still quite sure his cerebral cortex was still online. Why was it, then, that having told the serving droid they need _four_ escorts, had it provided _five_?

"One on the house!" cried Janson, gesturing the last lady to enter. Hobbie gave each lady a suitably appreciative scrutinising and beckoned to the blonde lady in the midnight blue gown with a bunch of rosebuds tied to one shoulder.

Janson set his sights on the lovely brunette, who was coincidently wearing a frilly dark purple dress.

"We match!" he exclaimed with fervour, "Let get the music started."

Luke was thrust unceremoniously into the arms of an equally stunning blue skinned twi'lek, scantily clad in just enough fabric to remain decent. He was by now too drunk to protest. Together, as the music started, the duo of human and alien swayed across the dance floor like two sailors on a sinking ship.

That was when things stopped going to plan…

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 21.10 HOURS – IMPERIAL QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

Lord Vader sat behind the computer terminal, his blank eye sockets betraying none of the confusion he was feeling at that moment.

On the screen the source of his anguish was being played out like a badly written soap opera. The flickering blue image of Luke Skywalker, wearing what appeared to be a dress, lurched dangerously towards the camera. His eyes wide and mouth pulled into a drunken leer. Drunkenness was something Lord Vader could tolerate even if it galled him to see his only son being inflicted with alcohol.

Five minutes of drunken swaying later, the boy had switched partners and as he moved closer to the hidden camera with the new pale-haired lady, she gripped his clothing as if she wanted nothing more than to divest him of the garment.

_Well, _thought Darth Vader as he eyed the woman who was pawing his son with a murderous rage, _I shall have to divest her of those hands…_

"Darling!" Luke's boyish voice crackled over the sound receiver, "you don't know how long I've been waiting to tell someone this!"

There was a long pause as the lady giggle and Luke tried to right himself against the wall.

"I've always felt there was something missing in my life, another half that I had but didn't have – you know,"

_He does seem to be talkative drunk,_ mused Lord Vader, _perhaps it will be of use later._

"Go ahead, darling," purred the lady closing the distance between them, "make an announcement, go on!"

"You think I should, 'cos I dunno how the guys will take it, I mean -," rambled Luke flaying his arms to emphasize his point.

"Do it for me, honey-bunny," begged the escort, who was now closer than ever.

"Okay!" cried Luke with fortified courage, "Everyone listen up!"

There was a general lowering of music as all eyes turned on Lord Vader's son.

"I love Darth Vader very much but not in the way you," he lurched drunkenly towards Wes Janson, "think. He's – he's – my father!"

There was another pause as Luke righted himself once more. Astonished faces stared back at him with frozen horror,

"And," he continued triumphantly, "I don't care who hears about this but I want to be a woman and I'm gonna do it!"

With one final sweep of his arms, Luke Skywalker toppled over in an alcohol induced haze.

Darth Vader felt his respirator stop. In the momentary silence, he saw his life flash before his eyes. For the first time in more than twenty years he felt physically ill.

With on decisive slam of his right fist he broke the receiver in two. Admiral Piett and General Veers both jumped in shock.

"Make sure no one ever discovers this," he snarled in his most menacing tone and felt a small twinge of satisfaction as the blood drained from Piett's face.

"Yes, My Lord!" said General Veers as his skin turned a nasty greenish hue.

"Get out,"

Both men rushed out so quickly it was almost possible to see scorch marks on the carpet.

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 21.30 HOURS – IMPERIAL QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE **

It had taken Lord Vader twenty minutes and three broken pieces of furniture to calm down sufficiently to think clearly again. Being positive was something he had despised since the days of his apprenticeship; thankfully the Dark Side did not demand one sit in a sewing circle and think good thoughts. However he could after venting his spleen on the innocent upholstery, see the proverbial silver lining. Luke's parentage was now common knowledge and it would take long for the hypocritical Rebellion to turn their back on his son. Then the boy would have nowhere to turn but his father.

However there was a much more disturbing issue at hand. Although _disturbed_ could not quite describe the feeling he had after seeing his son lurch around in public wearing a court dress of Naboo that Padme used to favour.

_His son was just…confused – that was what people called these _situations_. Luke was just confused._

He had once read in the science journal _Nature_ that all human embryos were inherently female and only the action of one gene could turn a foetus into a male. Perhaps during puberty some boys could develop _gender identity_ _issues_…

_Perhaps_, whispered a voice he had tried to suppress for the last twenty years, _perhaps he's only this way because he never had a father…_

Guilt was an emotion Lord Vader had not felt for so long that when he was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange sensation, it took him several moments to realise it was guilt. _Guilt and regret._

_Look on the bright side_, muttered that insidious voice he had grown to hate, _you can remedy the situation with a good father-son chat. _

Trying to keep the disturbing thoughts at bay, Vader turned to look at the innocuous tape sitting on the only piece of intact furniture. He decided the best way to block the uncomfortable emotions was to review the tape – starting with the disreputable pilots who had corrupted his innocent son. _He was going to enjoy disembowelling them._

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**AN: I feel quite sorry for Luke – imagine talking to Darth Vader about gender identity! Please review – authors live off feedback! It keeps us from falling to the dark side.**


	8. Legal Injustice

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 6. Legal Injustice

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: Thank for all your wonderful reviews!**

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**27****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 23.00 HOURS – LEIA'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

No-one could look Leia Organa in the eye as they dragged a still intoxicated Luke into her apartment. No-one wanted to acknowledge that despite so many past experiences to the contrary, everyone had believed Wes Janson's ridiculous scheme would work.

The Princess stood in all her regal glory glaring up at their guilt-ridden faces as Luke lay snoring peacefully on her sofa, oblivious to the galactic tremors he had just created.

"He made me do it!" cried Hobbie withering under Leia's burning stare.

"You thought it was good idea!" yelled Wes in protest.

"You mind tricked me!"

"You are _all_ incredibly stupid," hissed Leia through fiercely clenched teeth. "Now you are going to relate every single detail of your hair-brained, ill-conceived scheme so _I_ can work out how much damage you've done."

"Well," started Wedge cautiously,

"Maybe, I'll just go find Chewie 'n' help him out with some stuff…" said Han hurriedly as he made a beeline towards the exit.

"Get back here right now," snarled Leia, her eyes darkening with pure rage. For a single moment Wedge Antilles found himself wondering what she would look like as the tyrannical ruler of the galaxy; the mental image was not hard to conjure up.

Han obediently pedalled back to this original position looking every bit as chastened as the rest of the group.

"You, explain," she pointed one long manicured finger at Wedge and folded her arms expectantly.

"Well, Janson wanted to stop Darth Vader's unhealthy interest in Luke -,"

"I did it with good intentions," pleaded Wes pathetically.

"The road to Hell is paved with _intentions_," snapped Leia, effectively silencing him with one look.

"We thought Vader would lose interest if we – um – well, Vader likes Luke's innocence, so we thought that if we could show him Luke's more decadent side and reiterate the fact that he is not gay then…"

Wedge trailed off as he heard how ridiculous it all sounded now in the sobering lights of Leia's apartment.

"Let me get this straight, you _guys_ came up with a scheme to debauch Luke in front of a camera that you knew the Imperial would be tapping so Darth Vader could see everything and thus leave Luke alone?" asked Leia in her most scathing tone of voice, "Did it ever occur to you that the Andaman government would be watching? Did it occur to you that perhaps you would simply add fuel to the fire?"

"That's what _I_ said!" grumbled Han, though it sounded almost like a whine. "I said if you show Luke at it with some girl, Vader will just get more excited!"

"That wasn't what I was talking about!" Leia all but screamed. "We are in an extremely delicate situation right now and you _idiots_ decide to publically embarrass one of our leading members. What were you thinking?"

There was a long tense silence because clearly, nobody had been thinking.

"We need to remedy the situation, what exactly did Luke say while he was drunk…"

"Well, he didn't divulge any classified information -," said Hobbie his voice full of false cheer. "He only said he wanted a sex change,"

"Oh, and he thinks Darth Vader is his father," said Han causally as if it was only an inconsequential after-thought.

For several moments Leia stood speechless with shock, and then she started to laugh _hysterically_.

"Has she gone mad?" whisper Wes as they all watched with horrified fascination at the strange spectacle unfolding before them.

Suddenly there was a chime at the door just as it slide open to reveal none other than the Dark Lord of the Sith and an entire squad of stormtroopers.

It was sure sign of things to come when Luke Skywalker choose that precise moment to awaken from his drunken stupor and shout,

"Hi there, Father, you coming to join in the party? Do you think I'd look good in-in dat dress?"

He slid boneless out of the sofa like a gastropod and proceeded to grin stupidly up at the towering figure before them with both thumbs held high. For one terrifying moment no one dared to breathe as the Rebels still sober enough to comprehend danger stood gaping at their intruder, and Darth Vader stood glaring at the inebriated Luke.

Then a cacophony of fear and anger broke loose

"What have you done to him!" demanded Vader his voice lined with menace.

"Get out of my room!" cried Leia shaking with fury.

"You look at Luke the wrong way and I'll castrate yer!" yelled Han, raising his fists in a futile gesture of bravado.

"It's not my fault!" screamed Hobbie waving his hands so fervently that they became nothing more than two pink blurs.

"Silence!" the great booming voice of the Dark Lord of the Sith cutting off their protests as effectively as if all three hysterical Rebels had their tracheas simultaneously crushed with the force, which was, coincidentally, what Vader had been fantasising.

"You have _no_ right to barge into my room uninvited -," hissed Leia, discarding all of the familiar political niceties.

"I was concerned at your _behaviour_," rumbled Darth Vader as he waved a disapproving finger in their general direction.

"Well, maybe next time you should stop tapping our communication signals," replied Leia in her most sarcastic tone.

The Dark Lord of the Sith stepped towards the assembled Rebels marvelling at their insolence. He could sense their fear ripping through the force but that was only an undercurrent, the waves of emotion were unmistakeably clouded with _irritation_. These disreputable criminals and low-lives had the gall to be _irritated_ by his presence.

_Perhaps he should remedy the situation, starting with Captain Solo_.

The smuggler, though he had the mental capacity of an aged eopie, still possessed a keen sense of self preservation. As Vader reach out to the swirling mass of black energy that served his beck and call, Captain Solo reached out to lift Luke back onto the couch.

The senseless boy clung pathetically to Solo's arm with a vague smile and pursed his lips as if to give the man a kiss.

Darth Vader did not know who felt more disgusted, himself or the uncomfortable Solo whose face had a turned a disturbing shade of purple. With one flick of his mechanical wrist Vader sent the smuggler flying backwards out of Luke's reach. The repulsively lucky criminal landed on the other couch looking only slightly winded.

"Oi!," he cried in the obnoxious Corellian accent that grated Vader's nerves like nothing he had ever encountered before. "Luke's got a right to choose! You can't blame me for looking a whole lot _better_ than you."

Before Vader could respond the petite firebrand of a Princess stepped in, her eyes flashing like incoming missiles.

"Unless you would like to end this negotiation right here, right now," she said in a low deadly tone, "I suggest you leave these rooms immediately before I call the Andaman security."

"I am here to ensure the safety of my son." rumbled Vader stepping up to tower over the Princess, who, completely uncowered by his display, stepped forwards to match his stance and jabbed him in the chest with her finger.

"Don't be ridiculous," she sneered. The sneer slipped off her face very quickly when Vader grabbed her extended wrist in his vice like hold.

"I assure you, Princess, I am never ridiculous. Luke Skywalker is my son, and thus as he has not reached the age of majority -,"

"He's twenty-one!" cried Wes Janson,

"According to Coruscant Law and that followed by all civilised star systems, human majority comes at twenty-five," replied Vader releasing the Princess and watching her snatch her wrist back as if his glove had physically burnt her skin.

"If you had bothered to spend any time researching Andaman society, you would realise that their Code of Laws is based entirely on Coruscant Law of the Old Republic, and don't try to bring up diplomatic immunity with me, Princess, Luke is not a delegate," continued Vader, enjoying the growing look of fear and indecision clouding her expression.

"Hey," snapped Wedge Antilles jumping the foray, "you can't _prove_ Luke's your son! Testimony under the influence of any substance is deemed useless in a court of law!"

Darth Vader looked sardonically down at the upstart pilot,

"I have all the proof I need."

He extended one piece of flimsy-plast towards the Princess and he saw her eyes widen with distinct terror.

"What in the seven Corellian Hells!" demanded Han Solo as he hauled himself off the couch, "what have you got there?"

"It's a court injunction," said Leia, her voice suddenly subdued, "from the Andaman government:

'_It has come to the attention of the Andaman Crown Court that certain non-delegate personnel of the Alliance to Restore the Republic have yet to reach the legal age of human majority as specified under Andaman Law. Observation of and obedience to Andaman Law is essential to all negotiations, as agreed upon at the Convention of Gall. The Crown Court thus asks Princess Leia Organa to ensure that all legal minors are suspended from duty and placed under lawful guardianship until the end of the negotiations. _

_The Andaman government has received acceptable legal evidence to indicate Lord Vader as the suitable guardian for Luke Skywalker."_

"You complete and utter b-,"

"Han!" hissed the Princess, her eyes blazing once more with suppressed rage. "This is a legal injunction and I am obliged to respect it."

"Very wise, Princess," rumbled Vader, not bothering to hide his sarcastic tone.

"However," continued Leia, obviously not going to let him have the last word, "the document requires _lawful guardianship_."

"As Luke Skywalker's biological father, I am the _only _guardian that can be deemed lawful,"

"As if you can _ever_ be a _suitable_ guardian to anything!" snapped Leia. "I am going to formally challenge this injunction right now!"

"Unfortunately for you Princess, the Andaman court adjourns at 22.00 hours, you will have to wait until the next day. In the mean time the injunction stands – Luke Skywalker will be coming with me."

"No!" snarled Han as he rush to place himself between Luke's intoxicated body and the Dark Lord of the Sith, "I'm not letting you take him!"

With one final act of madness, he produced a pair of binders and handcuffed himself to Luke's docile wrist.

"Hah, now you're going to have to take both of us to your lair, Vader!" he pronounced triumphantly. "Surely you don't want to have to spend the rest of the evening listening to me!"

Eyeing the smuggler with distaste and amusement, Vader simply activated his lightsabre letting the angry red glow bathe the irritating man with fear.

"I would not want to listen to you, which is precisely why I'm going to cut your hand off at the wrist," he replied coolly.

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**AN: if anyone is wondering how Vader managed to get an court ruling so quickly - I can only say being the Dark Lord of the Sith has its perks. **

**Please review - next chapter new developments in the mystery case!**


	9. Revenge is a Dish

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 7. Revenge is a Dish

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: Okay this chapter actually has some plot in for everyone who actually opened this story for the murder mystery. I promise you there is definitely a reason behind the last chapter that pertains to the ending. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love reading you comments, keep them coming!**

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 00.00 HOURS – LORD VADER'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Luke rubbed his head wearily as he attempted to sit up. Every small movement sent a spasm of pain slicing through his head. It felt as if somewhere in the last few hours he had been hit by a Death Star laser.

"What happened?" he asked barely able to open his eyes. Suddenly he realised that he was sitting in bed – and not his own bed at that. "where am I? I need some veermok dung…"

Feeling bleary and distinctly nauseous he stretched out a hand to feel his way to the edge of the bed. As he stretched out into space something grabbed his arm in vice-like grip.

"Stay still, young one," rumbled an all together far too familiar voice that was certainly a much better hangover cure than veermok dung.

"Ahhhh!"

With instincts honed on the field of battle, Luke attempted to roll away from his captor but to no avail. Darth Vader's claw was clamped firmly around his forearm and all he succeeded in doing was wrenching his arm into an uncomfortable position.

"How – what – you – get," he was far too frightened to talk coherently. His arch nemesis was towering over him like a demonic figure from his childhood nightmares.

"You were drunk and behaving most inappropriately. We will need to talk about this once you have recovered."

"What!" fear gave way to embarrassment as Luke tried to recall what had just happened in the last few hours, the force was all too happy to assist him.

Flashes of drinking, dancing with that twi'lek and finally his proclamation of his deepest secrets rushed back to him.

"No!" whispered Luke hoarsely, "that's not true! That's impossible,"

"Search your feelings you know it to be true!" insisted Vader, "search your feelings -,"

"Stars! Why do you keep saying that!" snapped Luke suddenly feeling an overwhelming annoyance overtake any sense of embarrassment, "it's so uncool!"

Never in his life as Dark Lord of the Sith had _anyone ever_ referred to Darth Vader as _uncool_. The outburst was utter unexpected and for several moments Vader could not find a sufficiently terrifying response.

"I suppose drinking until you lose control of your nervous system is _cool_?" he snarled, hoping that a healthy dose of fear would be beneficial to curing his young son of his wild ways. However it seemed that Luke's adolescent angst was extremely resistant.

"Agh! What did you do? Were you spying on me? Don't you have anything better to do with your life than stalk me!"

"Do not speak to me like that, young one!" rumbled Vader, cutting through Luke's tormented teenage babble, "I am your father and your welfare is _my_ concern."

Luke was about to start ranting about lack of privacy but Darth Vader's words struck a very painful chord. For a moment he almost wanted to believe that there was sincere feeling behind that proclamation; that buried somewhere under the choking grip of the dark side was Anakin Skywalker, his father and hero.

As if Vader had read his thoughts, the Dark Lord stepped away from Luke as if his emotional thoughts were contagious and potentially deadly.

"You _will _obey me!" said Vader waving an admonishing finger in his face as if to dispel any ridiculous thoughts he was having.

"No I _will_ not," snapped Luke feeling a strange sense of bravado overcoming the ever constant fear. "I'm leaving, you have no right to hold me here -,"

"Quite wrong, young one," replied Vader almost smugly and produced the thin slip of flimsplast.

Staring down at the court injunction, Luke finally understood the phrase: _read it and weep!_

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 00.00 HOURS – THE COMMUNAL GARDENS, PENTHOUSE**

Having thrown Han unceremonious out on his backside not more than twenty minutes ago, Leia was now feeling distinctly uncomfortable as they stood squeezed together like tinned sardines under the artificial waterfall. The occasional fine spray of crystal cold water fanned across their faces, making them shiver in unison.

"Alright," muttered Han who, under the poor disguise of being disgruntled, was actually greatly enjoying this moment, "I hope Chewie had something important to tell us,"

"Yes, me too," she grated out through tightly clenched teeth. Han's left arm, the one that was no holding the datapad aloft, was straying dangerously close to her thigh for his own good.

The ledge behind the artificial waterfall was the only place in the entire complex that lent itself to clandestine affairs. The noise of the water feature was sufficient to block out any noises from behind the curtain of water and the glittering spray prevent the numerous camera outside from seeing clearly into the narrow alcove. However their forms could still be seen even without image enhancing technology, which was why Leia was obliged to wrap her arms around the alcohol soaked smuggler in a passionate show of adoration.

Han had insisted, to his own detriment, that they should kiss every few minutes just to keep up the charade but he soon disavowed that idea when Leia threatened to bite off his tongue.

"Oaky here goes nothing," replied Han, a lopsided grin firmly in place as he switched on the data pad and they began to read.

Five minutes later, the Han had lost all his amorous feelings and Leia could feel her jaw cramping from gasping too much.

"Well," she said weakly after a long moment of silence, "at least one of us decided to pursue this case."

"I know Chewie's a technical genius but how did he manage to hack into the skyhook's mainframe computer?" whispered Han, his voice a mixture of awe and fear.

"It was a one off slice accessing the lowest priority files so I think we'll be alright," muttered Leia, letting her head temporarily rest of Han's chest. It was a testament to his agitated state that the smuggled did not take the opportunity to get a bit more familiar with his princess.

"Look at this part: _Twenty thousand _class 3 containers to be shipped to the skyhook tomorrow morning…"

"Class 3 containers are the re-enforced titanium ones, aren't they?" asked Leia trying to remember how the Customs and Immigration office stamped their cargo.

"Yeah, used for heavy, radioactive, or potential explosive equipment. We only had like two crates of nuclear power cells – what in the Stars are these Andamans doing with _twenty thousand_?"

"I know, they abhor radioactive substances, it's banned under the Statue of -,"

"Okay, spare me the history," muttered Han testily as he continued to read.

"Wow, this skyhook is using up a lot of durasteel," observed Leia as she read the import figures, "it looks almost as if the Andamans are trying to build something."

"Yeah and I'll bet you it's not another casino," grumbled Han, the corners of his mouth turned down in agitation. "This is not good! Wait! What in the Nine Hells of Corellia?"

He was pointing to another data table showing the import of _Irradium378_ scheduled to arrive in the next week.

"_Irradium_, but that's only used in lasers. This skyhook doesn't have any defences!" hissed Leia, feeling an icy sense of dread washing over her.

"Lady, we are in deep trouble," said Han darkly, "that human cyborg is just the tip of the iceburg."

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 09.00 HOURS – THE COMMUNAL ATRIUM, PENTHOUSE**

If there was anything more humiliating than being forced to face your comrades after a night of debauched drinking, where you admitted to wanting a sex change and that the Dark Lord of the Sith was actually your father, Luke was quite happy to trade it for his current situation.

Sitting in sullen silence on the Imperial side of the breakfast table was almost as bad as feeling the curious gaze of the entire delegation following his every move. However that was nothing compared to the Dark Lord of the Sith who was current sitting next to Luke and forcing him to eat a particularly disgusting plate of boiled vegetables.

_I'm not eating that_, Luke thought, sending as much anger, disgust and hatred he could muster through the force.

_I suggest you cease trying my patience, young one_, rumbled Vader's menacing voice inside his mind.

_It's disgusting! Couldn't you just strap me to an interrogation table and get this torture over and done with?_ Demanded Luke trying not to meet anyone's eye despite Wes, Wedge and Hobbie making their best subtle efforts to attract his attention.

_I have no desire to torture you, the medical examination showed that you are malnourished and lacking vital vitamins. _

_If I eat this,_ hissed Luke through their force bond, _will you let me spend the rest of the day with my friends?_

The force shifted slightly as if Darth Vader as weighing the situation.

_For heaven's sake,_ cried Luke mentally, _it's not like I can run away!_

_Don't speak to me in that tone,_ snarled Darth Vader and Luke was treated to a wave of pure vitriol through their bond, causing him to wince.

Across the table Han nearly drew his blaster before Leia managed to grapple his hand back to the holster. Both his friends looked as if they hadn't slept all night, their pale unhealthy complexions standing out against the ambassadors who, unaware of the drama last night, looked fresh and eager for another day of negotiations.

_I will consider allowing you to return to you quarters, provided you take a stormtrooper escort and stay inside for the entire duration,_

Feeling the urge to whine and ruthlessly suppressing it, Luke decided to make the best of his situation. After all, he was quite sure this legal injustice would be sorted out before the day was out and he would be back in the Alliance.

He could tell everyone it was just an alcohol induced comment that was entirely false. Darth Vader had not produced any proof of their relationship and he was sure that with enough vehement denials, his name could be cleared. This whole fiasco, Luke could say, was just the Dark Lord taking advantage of the situation. There was no need to panic because from the feelings of the entire Alliance assembled around the table, no one believed that he was literally _Sithspawn._

_You know,_ said that nasty little voice inside his head, _if you knew how to choke people no one would have dared to get you drunk…_

_Yes,_ thought Luke in agitation, _if I manage to live this down, I could probably kill the Emperor and take over the galaxy._

A particularly satisfying image of himself seated on the galactic throne whilst Wedge, Wes and Hobbie cowered on their knees before floated through Luke's mind and fed that vindictive part of him mind which he never wanted to acknowledge.

_We are not so different, my son_, rumbled Vader's voice, startling Luke. His piloting reflexes kicked in before he could stop himself and both his elbows slammed onto the table top in a reflexive attempt at grabbing the controls of a non-existent ship.

Perhaps it was the will of the force that one elbow landed on the outer rim of his plate causing the entire gruesome contents of that piece of crockery to go flying away from him like a homing missile. However it was definitely fate that guided the gelatinous mess of green vegetable matter straight into Wes Janson's face.

There was a sickening squelch and then a moment of utter silence as the shocked pilot stared down at his sodden robes with dismay.

_Whoever said 'revenge was a dish best served cold' clearly had never experienced the joy of watching warm vegetable mush dripping off Janson's bright red face._

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**AN: Luke gets his revenge unintentionally and the plot thickens! Please review! **


	10. Sublime Sublimation

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 8. The Sublime meets Sublimation

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, just been on holiday. This new chapter is dedicated to Master Liz - hope you enjoy it.**

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 10.00 HOURS – THE CROWN PROSECUTION SERVICE, LEVEL 10 **

As the old Alderaanian nursery rhyme about rowing boats went, _life was but a dream_ and right now Leia's dream was quickly becoming a nightmare.

"I am afraid," said the judge in her annoying nasal tone, "that this court injunction cannot be lifted,"

"Why?" snapped Han, speaking out of turn once again. The judge, her sharp features contorted in a most unflattering expression, shook her sparse grey locks in disapproval.

"Mr Solo, kindly refrain from making any noise until this session is over,"

Han looked as if he wanted to jump right out of the seating area and forcibly change here self-satisfied tone.

"Your excellency," said Leia firmly, "the jury has accepted the evidence I have provided. Surely it is uncustomary for the judge over-rule a jury's decision."

If anything, the judge looked even angrier than before as her glimmering eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

"Princess Organa, although the jury's opinion in this matter is duly noted, as the judge I must take evidence presented in previous hearings into account when reaching my decision. You have shown that Lord Vader may exhibit _unorthodox_ behaviours but in the light of all the evidence I rule that the injunction stands!"

"If I may be so bold to ask," replied Leia trying to keep her voice even in the heat of her anger, "what was so compelling about the evidence Lord Vader provided yesterday?"

"Previous hearings are confidential and information can only be divulged without written consent from all those who participated," snapped the judge, "this appeal is henceforth closed."

With one decisive strike of the drum set before her on her high perch towering above the rest of the court room, the judge effectively ended all legal avenues of protest. The jury, six rather dour Andaman citizens seated in front of the judge, looked almost apologetic as Leia, Han and Chewie were escorted out.

Once outside the oppressive courtroom, Han Solo burst into a particularly vile string of curses that would have scorched even the ears of Lando Calrissian (if the gambler had been on Andaman instead of staking out Jabba the Hutt). Chewie expressed his wholehearted approval and added several less than generous comments about the judge's mother.

"I can't believe it," hissed Leia as the idea of walking back into the courtroom and strangling the judge became more and more appealing.

"What do they think they're playing at?" growled Han, glaring at the legal and paralegal personnel that were milling through the transit corridor, which they were injudiciously blocking.

Chewie growled a warning and extended his hand towards the exit.

"I know, I know," snapped Han, "we need to talk elsewhere."

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 10.00 HOURS – LUKE'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Having a cadre of stormtroopers outside his room was a new height of humiliation for Luke until the said cadre had decided it would be more prudent to guard him inside his room.

Five blank white masks stared down at him with unwavering attention as he flopped down on his couch and pulled out a datapad from under the coffee table. It was the guide to Andaman culture that they had been ordered to memorise before starting the mission, but Luke being the opposite of a bookworm had simply ordered 3PO to give him a brief summary of the contents.

"You know, you're free to help yourselves some drinks," said Luke wryly,

The stormtroopers didn't even twitch.

It was like having five living statues standing in his room and Luke resolved to simply treat them as _bad art_.

Opening the datapad, he saw that someone had made amends to the contents whilst he had been (and really still was) a captive of Darth Vader. Flipping casually to the new page, as to not alert anyone to his surprise at the discovery, Luke stared at the huge table of figures at greeted his eyes.

_Oh, my, Chewie's really done it this time,_ he thought, fighting to keep his expression impassive. _The skyhook's mainframe computer!_

When he finished reading, Luke shut off the datapad and tossed it carelessly onto the couch. The less interest he displayed, the less likely it was to alert the Andamans or the Imperials to the astonishing amount of information Chewie had managed to gather. Most of the data was just the mundane administrative lists that every organisation in the galaxy was plagued with: lists of imports, exports, shuttle flights etc.

However, hidden within the vast spreadsheets were some very intriguing and equally worrying information.

One innocuous looking line in the imports spreadsheet for this week claimed that the skyhook had received enough durasteel to build a freighter…or two. Another equally unassuming row of numbers indicated that a large shipment of _Irradium_ was about to arrive, which to Luke's calculations could power thirty turbolasers or a small army of snub fighters.

However the most disturbing thing had nothing to do with durasteel or _Irradium_. As he had scrolled quickly through the food imports spreadsheet, using the force to enhance his attention, dactyl crystal supplements stood out from the vast lists of numbers and items that had been recorded. Only with the help of his force sense did he hone in on a single figure halfway through the spreadsheet. The last import of dactyl crystals was large – no it was _massive_. For several moments Luke's over rout brain attempted to remember just what dactyl crystals were used for but only the vague memory of it being some kind of essential vitamin was unearthed.

_Dactyl crystals – it could be something vitally important. _

He needed to find a way of informing Han and Leia without Darth Vader knowing.

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 10.30 HOURS – LUKE'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Han and Chewie came barging into his room without ringing the intercom, as usual, and were greeted by the barrels of five raised blasters all set to _kill._

"Oh great!" said Luke jumping up from the couch, "you guys can leave now;" he gestured dismissively to the stormtroopers, "I'm a free man again."

"Um about that," muttered Han, suddenly looking very sheepish. The armed stormtroopers, sensing that events were moving in their favour, did not lower their blasters.

"What happened?" asked Luke, feeling his initial jubilation giving way to uncertainty. He attempted to peer at Han's expression over the bulky armoured stormtroopers but found he was indeed rather short by stormtrooper standards.

"You see," said Han slowly, not making any move to push aside the squad of stormtroopers or even throwing a casual insult at them, as he was prone to do, "there has been some _problems,_"

"You mean the injuction still stands?" cried Luke unable to believe what he was hearing. Stretching out to the force, he tried to find any hint of deception or amusement in the force but was met only with a dull apprehension. This was not a joke.

"Yeah, when you put it like that," mumbled Han, looking rather embarrassed, as if it was entirely his fault that Luke was about to permanently become Lord Vader's ward.

"But – but that's _ridiculous_," exclaimed Luke, his voice going up an octave in fright. "No one could be so- so –so…" He was too angry and confused to formulate any more words. Feeling his legs turn into lead weights, Luke sank back onto his couch in despair.

Taking hold of the wax paper that the fresh violets decorating his quarters had been wrapped in, Luke scrunched it into ball and hurled the offending object at the nearest stormtrooper. The small purple ball bounced harmlessly off the his pristine white armour without sticking and landed at Han's feet.

"We're re-appealing," replied Han regretfully as he took a step towards Luke and found his nose inches away from the wrong end of a blaster.

"Don't bother," snapped Luke bitterly, "The Andamans have already decided who to support."

"Well, we can always call off this whole negotiation and head off home," suggested Han, "Vader can't get you there."

"No, the mission is more important," said Luke, shaking his head. "We need to get through these talks, even if I have to lick Vader's boots."

"Stars, you don't know how much I want to just blast that perverted, evil, black-hearted piece of bantha poo-,"

Suddenly Han frozen as they both heard the distinctive rasp of a respirator as the doors to Luke's quarters slide open and Darth Vader entered, looming like a cartoon villain over Han's left shoulder.

"You were saying, Captain Solo?" demanded the Dark Lord, one hand conspicuously caressing his lightsabre.

Han's expression flashed comically from pure shock to anger and then fizzled into something resembling a weak sarcastic smile.

"Your Lordship," he muttered with the obviously fake sincerity he usually reserved for Hutt crime lords and melodramatic businessmen who thought too much of themselves, "I was just about to tell Luke the good news…"

"Your presence is prohibited in these quarters, _Captain Solo,_" rumbled Vader stepping menacingly towards both Han and Chewie, who despite their combined bulk could not block the towering Sith Lord from view.

For a second Luke was almost afraid Han would drop his act and just attempt to tear Darth Vader apart with his bare hands but Chewie places a firm restraining hand on Han's shoulder.

"That's alright," said Han with false grace, "Chewie and I were just about to leave, the air's getting a bit stale in here."

With a backward glance that was anything but nonchalant, Han turned to Luke and said,

"Look after yourself kid, and while you're here make sure you use the room service."

"Don't worry, I've already gone through ten bottle of blossom wine," replied Luke in jest, "see you soon buddy,"

The Dark Lord of the Sith calmly stepped into the room to allow Han and Chewie to leave, which they did so with extreme restraint on Han's part, though the courteous image was spoilt by the length of unfurled purple wax paper that was firmly stuck to the bottom of Han's left shoe like an extendable limb.

After the duo and their various acquired appendages had disappeared from view, Luke suddenly felt the weight of the silence in the room bearing down upon him like an invisible force. Darth Vader waved the stormtroopers away and they trooped out like automatons leaving just the two of them staring at each other across two feet of purple carpet.

"I have bought your possessions," rumbled Vader, holding out a tattered calico bag that Luke had bought with him all the way from Tatooine. Inside he knew were his personal effects: a well worn toothbrush with a sparse covering of white bristles, a plastic cup from Alderaan courtesy of Leia, and several small ornaments he had collected on his missions to various deserted corners of the galaxy.

At a loss at what to say, Luke settled for a indiscernible murmur that would have made Aunt Beru smack him around the head if he was still back on the farm. His aunt had always said that _"manners maketh a man"_, and even if the Emperor had just killed all their cattle, she would still invite him in for a drink.

"You have problems articulating," stated Vader depositing the small bag carefully on the couch beside Luke, "that will change."

"Uh," muttered Luke, not wanting to get into another argument with his captor, the last one had severely tested his vocabulary to the point that halfway through their conversation Luke found he could only understand half the words that were emanating from Vader's vocal box.

"I trust the quarters are to your liking?" demanded Vader with what Luke knew was entirely feigned concern.

"Look, I'm fine, you're happy, can you just leave me alone now? Unless you want to strap me to that table and start your interrogation."

If Vader's mask would allow him to convey emotion, Luke was sure that he would be looking very annoyed.

"Young one, you do not yet understand your importance,"

Luke opened his mouth to snap that he was heard that phrase at least a dozen times in the last day but something stopped him. A spark in the force ignited causing ripple through the energy field. Vader tilted his helmet back as if listening to a silent noise coming from behind the doors.

"You can feel it too?" asked Luke as the rippled died down leaving both occupants of the room with only vague feelings of foreboding.

"Something is going to happen," whispered the Dark Lord, his voice magnifying Luke's fear. "Something terrible is about to happen."

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 15.00 HOURS – CHEWBACCA'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Wes, Wedge and Hobbie sat in uncomfortable silence across the Princess and Han Solo, whilst C3PO and Chewbacca handed out some oddly shaped lumps of baked dough that were supposed to be cookies. Not wanting to offend their wookiee host, who had unfortunately also baked the biscuits as part of a leisure class on level 10, all three pilots chewed the baked product without complaint.

Han, who's taste buds had long since been demolished by poverty and Corellian moonshine, was gobbling down the lumps as if they were the last of an Alderaanian delicacy.

"This is what we have found out," said Leia extending the datapad containing all of Chewie's illegally obtained information. As the three pilots glanced around nervously at all four corners of the ceiling as if looking for hidden cameras, Leia waved the newest piece of Alliance technology under their upturned noses. "Everything is being jammed boys. It's the new DEMP technology, the magnetic waves could jam the communications of a Star Destroy if it was in range."

"Man, I've being hearing about this for months!" said Hobbie

"Why didn't we use it earlier?" demanded Wedge

"Stars, that box is ugly," muttered Wes,

Leia, who thought that the design of the device had a certain charm to it, simply glared them into silence.

"Look, the Andamans have been buying shipload of Irradium from somewhere, and putting onto this skyhook."

"Maybe they're interested in radiation science," suggest Wedge casually. Choosing to ignore the comment Leia continued,

"We've also discovered something even more interesting, courtesy of Luke and his quick thinking," she gestured to Han who looked righteously hurt.

"I did some quick thinking too, your _highness,_ if I had plucked that piece of paper off my shoe…"

"Whatever," said Leia in her least impressed tone, "_Luke_ discovered that there has been a massive increase in the amount of dactyl crystals being imported onto this skyhook."

Two blank expression stared at her from across the coffee table but Wedge Antilles at least looked slightly more enlightened.

"Dactyl crystals are essential for the survival of Acrona, a species native to the Teke Ro system," explained Leia feeling somewhat exasperated by their level of general knowledge.

"How much is '_massive'_," asked Wedge curiously,

"Well over 2 tonnes have been imported in the last month,"

There was a sharp intake of breath as Wedge sat looking stunned at the revelation.

"I taking that expression to mean it's _a lot_," muttered Wes,

"_2 tonnes! _Are they going to move the entire population of Crona to this skyhook?" demanded Wedge in disbelief. "One Acrona can take about 10 grams a day of that stuff before it gets poisoned like us."

"What do you mean 'like us'?" asked Han sensing that there was something Leia had forgotten to tell him or didn't know herself. Judging by her expression, which mirrored his own, is was news to Leia.

"Dactyl crystals are poisonous to most sentient beings in its gaseous form," explained Wedge in his matter of fact voice, "the compound is like carbon dioxide, it doesn't have a liquid state but changes straight from a solid to a gas – called sublimation. The sublimation point of dactyls is just above room temperature making it one hell of a substance to transport."

"I'm taking it that you have personal experience," commented Han

"I used to run the stuff back when I was in with Booster Terrik and his crew. Everyone even the Acrona would wear breathing masks when handling it. Leave the things in the sunlight or near a radiator and bam! Your world goes up in yellow smoke. I hope the Andamans have got their stash in cold storage or we are all dead meat in a tin."

"What exactly happens to people like us if we breathe in dactyl gas?" asked Leia trying to keep the morbid curiosity out of her tone.

There was a slight pause as Wedge attempted to find the correct words to describe the awful scene.

"Have you ever poured salt on a slug?" he asked looking slightly paler than a few moments ago,

"Yep," said Hobbie, looking uncharacteristically happy at the thought.

"Well that's what happens to you but on the inside. The gas draws out all your moisture from your lungs, gut, blood vessels - everywhere it can diffuse to - and it diffuses faster as the temperature increases. You end up drowning in your own mucus basically and you can always tell if someone's dies of dactyl poisoning by the yellow foaming spit that leaks out of their nose, eyes and ears … it's disgusting."

"Oh," said Leia, for once too stunned to be eloquent, "then we have a big problem." Chewbacca roared in agreement.

"Yep," said Han lightly, "the dactyl crystals are being stored in level 1, the only level without air-con."

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**AN: Some back ground information:**

The Acrona are an actual canon species in the Star Wars universe, who appear in the Jedi Apprentice series. According to wookieepedia they do live in the Teke Ro system on a planet called Crona.

Dactyl crystals are also canon and are essential for the Acrona's survival. However the part about sublimation is not canon, but sublimation (as any scientists will know) is well known chemical process.

**I wrote an entire backstory to the Andamans - but that would bore everyone to death but there are some important points for the plot line: (**

**If anyone has been wondering the Andamans are not fully Human - they are a humanoid subspecies. Originally they were humans who emigrated from the core worlds for idealogical reasons **(i.e their anal-retentive paranoia prevented them from living in normal society)**. Over millennia due to geographical isolation they have evolved some very unusual traits not seen in humans but they are still able to have children with humans, and therefore cannot be a separate species. **

**Andama - the most important planet in the Andaman system is home to the largest plasma reserves in the outer rim. Plasma can be used to power everything from spaceships to scooter **(plasma is the lightening like stuff seen at the end of Phantom Menace when Qui-gon duels Darth Maul in the hall of walkways without railings) **and is thus during war time a valuable commodity. **

**For all the time the Andaman state has existed (first as a monarchy - hence crown prosecution service - and then as an oligarchy) it has been independent of any galactic governing body. No senators were ever sent to represent Andaman interests. The droid armies that were stupid enough to enter the system during the clone wars were blown to smithereens. The Empire didn't bother to take the system by force in the beginning because:**

**1. There is only plasma - every other planet in the system was thoroughly uninteresting**

**2. Andamans are armed to the teeth at all times with a mine field around every planet capable of causing extensive damage to Star Destroyers**

**However once the Andamans banned Imperial trade in the entire region** (including vast swaths of space not within their own solar system) **and started to destroy trade ships, the Empire performed half-hearted offensive campaign that obviously ended in defeat. Thus for twenty years, Darth Vader and the Empire decided to leave the backwater of a system alone as long as they continued to trade with the outside world. **

**The reason why Andaman suddenly become so important to the Imperials is hinted at in the story but not fully explained yet because Leia doesn't know. **

_**If anyone actually wants more information feel free to ask**_

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**Please review - I love you all!**


	11. Don't Eat Yellow Smoke

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 8. Don't Eat Yellow Smoke

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre: **Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: Thank you for all your reviews. I've been asked two questions:**

_**1. Why is Han walking around when he's supposed to be in carbonite**_

_**A: Basically this story is an alternative universe. The entire premise of negotiation pretty much consigns the story to this category. Han never gets frozen in carbonite as a test. Instead he is released along with Leia and Chewie just in time to save Luke.**_

_**I really need Han to be in the story simply because he is such a wonderful character to write.**_

_**2. Why has Vader not killed/maimed/permanently disfigured Han yet?**_

_**A: Vader needs to present the Empire as reasonable force to the Andamans or else he would simply be handing the entire system to the Rebels on a platter. Considering how everything he has ever done is now working against him, Vader is willing to tolerate Han for the moment (he thinks of the guys as a bug on a windshield).**_

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.00 HOURS – LEIA ORGANA'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Han Solo, smuggler, hot-shot pilot, incessant gambler and mind-blowing lover was currently trying to decide the best method of displaying that last quality to the princess. He was wearing his good boxer shorts, the ones that didn't have holes but he had yet to discover a pretext under which he could in good taste exhibit them and his anatomical attributes to her.

The Princess was still braiding her hair in the dressing room and Han lounged on the sofa, trying to mentally gag the unremitting voice of reason that insisted he should really be thinking out the dactyl crystals and not Leia's derrière.

However a distraction in the form of Wedge Antilles, whose derrière Han did not ever want to fantasize about, burst into the room.

"You've got to see this!" cried the infuriating pilot as he slumped against the doorframe which was now fulfilling the role of skeletal support system for his entire body.

"Really?" drawled Han sardonically as he tried to cross his legs without drawing attention to his self conscious action.

"Yes, you have to!" snapped Wedge without bothering to explain why or what he was so intent on dragging Han to see.

"Really?" continued Han cocking one eyebrow, "what disaster has befallen you, young Antilles?"

"The frogs have died!"

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.02 HOURS – THE GARDENS, DIPLOMATIC COMPLEX**

The pond at the bottom of the garden, close to the now ominous pool where the murder had taken place, was filled with the desiccated corpses of frogs. Small pink frogs floated serenely amongst the algae with their bellies turn towards the sky and their four limbs outstretched in an almost cartoon like pose. Large blue frogs bobbed up and down like miniature buoys with each passing ripple. All were very much dead.

"Ah," muttered Han as the putrid smell of decay drove all amorous thoughts from his brain as effectively as being frozen in carbonite.

Wes and Hobbie, the troublesome duo, were already leaning precariously at the pond's edge poking the floating carcasses with a stick. From the way the corpses bounced away, Han almost thought the frogs had been frozen in carbonite.

"They've dried up," explained Wedge, his voice low with concern, "I've never seen anything like this."

Han glanced round nonchalantly picking out each piece of surveillance material and cataloguing its position in relation to their party.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he concluded clapping Wedge on the back. "Best we inform the Andamans so they can clear this thing up. Must be some disease or other – poor frogs."

Taking Han's uncharacteristic concern for lower lifeforms as a sign that they all need to go inside to talk, Wedge ushered the other two pilots and their new toy, the stick, back into the penthouse.

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.05 HOURS – LEIA ORGANA'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Leia looked slightly stunned at the grave gathering in her living room that she had not authorised and didn't particularly want at this time. Braiding her hair had given her much needed room to think. The said room had now been taken up four men whom her aunts would never have allowed past the garden gate.

"Alright there are some dead frogs in the pond, what exactly are we panicking for?"

"Don't you see," snapped Wedge wringing his hands together, "it's started, the dactyl gas has entered the ventilation system – we are all drying out."

Leia was about to make a disparaging remark about paranoia when an uncomfortable awareness of thirst crept into her mind. Her throat had started to feel slightly dry and her lips, usually perfectly smooth felt cracked and wrinkled as she ran her tongue over them.

"The frogs," continued Wedge looking more alarmed, "are the first to go because as amphibians they absorb it through their skin. Their bodies have been petrified and perfectly preserved, just like the ancient Mycaena Mummies."

"But they were floating in the pond, surrounded by _water_" said Hobbie looking very confused.

"The gas already destroyed their nervous systems – they didn't die from dehydration, they drowned in the water,"

_Drowned frogs,_ thought Han wearily, _just what my romantic evening needed._

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.35 HOURS – LUKE SKYWALKER'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Luke Skywalker, rebel pilot, beloved hero and all round nice guy was currently stuck head first in a narrow laundry shoot suspended several feet above the floor of his apartments with no way out. Having dangerously misjudged his own girth in a ludicrously stupid attempt to escape from the omnipresent guards, he was now suffering the consequences.

Half his body including his now very exposed backside was hanging out of the small square opening whereas his arms, shoulders and head were firmly stuck inside so that his pleas for help were completely muffled by the claustrophobic walls surrounding him like a coffin.

The five stormtroopers were currently baffled by the situation they found themselves in. There had been nothing in the Imperial Handbook to advise recruits on this type of operation. In fact LJ-107 suggested it was probably best to com Lord Vader, which spoke volumes for their current predicament. LJ -278 thought it was best to pull and see if they could haul the rebel out like a stubborn wine cork. LJ-901 claimed that engine grease was the best lubricant in this situation.

"I'm not getting oiled up!" spat Luke furiously as he tried vainly to wriggle his way free of the demonic tube. His voice echoed metallically against the walls but the stormtroopers either couldn't hear or didn't care. Two of them grabbed his legs and tug furiously but Luke's waist, which he had never considered too wide before, was firmly wedge inside the vent.

"It's hopeless," snapped one of the stormtroopers, his voice sounding exacerbated despite the mechanic quality of his voice projector. "Just leave him in there. When Lord Vader gets here, he can cut the boy with his lightsabre."

The rest of the squad laughed raucously.

"Fine, do that!" yelled Luke wondering if they could even hear him. Apparently they did, for within moments there was the sound of the door sliding open and the shut. The clanking of the stormtroopers' armour was instantly muted by solid durasteel door and within seconds the room completely silent.

_Wonderful, _thought Luke as he stared despondently into the darkness, _I'm going to suffocate with my head stuck down an airtight laundry shoot – the Emperor is going to wet himself laughing._

_

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.35 HOURS – LEVEL 1**

"Is anyone else completely creeped out yet?" hissed Wes as he ducked behind the wall of crates and surveyed the interior of the warehouse with extreme suspicion. Han mentally noted the younger man's stealthy footwork.

"Yep," whispered Wedge, his voice surprising quiet despite being only inches away from Han left ear. He clutched his blaster closer to his chest and looked around at the vast expanse of crates that formed an identically formidable wall, directly opposite to the one they were leaning against.

"Where _are_ the guards?" muttered Hobbie as he felt the slow creeping sensation of hairs prickling all the way down to the nape of his neck.

"Forget the guards," whispered Leia, who was several paces away from Han but in the deathly silent warehouse he heard her as clearly as if she was standing right next to him.

Chewie, who was leading the expedition, if one could refer to such a hurried assembly as such, crept along the wall of non-descript white plastic crates that they were all leaning against towards the end of the stack. The standard anonymous crates were stacked into neat rectangular walls nearly two stories high, the tops of which just cleared the free floating lights that hovered beneath the ceiling. Between each gigantic pile ran brightly lit causeways for forklifts and automated delivery droids. Everyone had expected Level 1, the only storage facility for the entire skyhook, to be hub of activity. Wes, ever the optimist, claimed that they would not have a chance in the nine Corellian Hells of making it past the elevator doors. However the actual situation was, as Han put, _damned creepy._

There were no life forms or even activated electronic forms zooming through the warehouse on the hundreds of scooters conveniently parked beside the main elevator hub, where several elevator shafts from different corners of the skyhook converged to deliver their passenger into Level 1. In fact the expedition had not seen any living being since leaving the penthouse, although Leia had wisely attributed this to the fact that the main elevator was just outside the penthouse doors.

The chilly atmosphere and the deathly silence were enough to put even Chewie on edge.

"I don't think this is such a good idea now," whispered Wes as he tiptoed along the wall, running his hands along the crates as if hoping to find a lifeline to grasp onto.

"Where are the dactyl shipments being kept?" asked Leia as she too ducked out of Han's sight around the corner.

"Section 45F7B," said Han as loudly as he dared in the oppressive silence.

"We're in luck," replied Leia's disembodied voice from the other side of the towering white wall. "_This_ _is _Section 45F7B,"

Wasting no time, Han, Wes and Hobbie scrambled around the end of the wall into the adjacent causeway.

"Well, which crate is it in?" asked Wes surveying the thousands, possibly millions of identical boxes.

"Don't be daft," hissed Wedge as he ran his hand along the smooth surface of each crate. "_All _of these crates have dactyl crystals in."

"I doubt it," muttered Han as he knocked the nearest crate with one knuckled and a hollow thumping noise echoed through the vast space. "They're pretty much empty."

"Shush," cried Hobbie, attempting vainly to pull Han's hand away from the steel surface.

"We've got this far," muttered Han, "I doubt the Andamans are going to come get us now."

"Well, that pretty much confirms our theory that the dactyl gas has already leaked into the system," said Wedge grimly.

"Yes but all these crates are empty," murmured Leia pensively as she genteelly tapped each crate within reach. "That would mean releasing thousands of cubic metres of gas, more than can possibly be contained within the ventilation system."

Everyone was silent as this new puzzle displaced all their previous fears and anxiety. For moment Han felt rather perplexed, _why did they, whoever they were, need so much dactyl crystals when a few boxes could kill every living thing on board within a few days. _

Suddenly, he saw an expression of horrified revelation blossom across Leia's normally perfect features.

"Oh Stars," she whispered hoarsely, "they don't want to poison us – they are going to suffocate us!"

Wedge and Chewie both gasped but Han, Wes and Hobbie simply stared uncomprehendingly back at her.

"Don't you see," snapped Wedge, who obviously did understand the princess, "there needs to be a greater volume of gas than is currently circulating inside the ventilation system in order to displace all the breathable air through the overflow valves. That way we will all choke to death within minutes!"

"Wait," muttered Han holding up his hands in intellectual defeat, "why does someone who can kill us with one box of the stuff, decided to buy several tonnes of it just so we can die quicker?"

That question effectively silenced everyone once more until, moments later Chewie let out a muted howl.

"_I believe,"_ he growled cautiously, "_that is how the Mycaena Mummies on Crona were made. The Acrona used to preserve their dead by pumping dacyl gas into their lungs. The gas would then dissolve quite quickly into the bloodstream preserving the tissue from all decay."_

"Wait," repeated Han feeling like he should be mentally grasping this concept but was too afraid to do, "you mean to say someone wants to _preserve our bodies - _mummify us?"

"Why ever would they want to do that?" croaked Wes, his complexion turning an alarming shade of green.

"_Because -,"_ Chewie started to say but suddenly he turned around and ducked back around to the other side of the wall. Han scrambled after him, all his danger senses screaming out for him to _move. _As he rounded the corner, he saw their worst fears confirmed.

A giant blanket of yellow smoke was rolling along the ground like a living sentient being. Small plumes reached out in all directions, wrapping around the lights illuminating the causeway like translucent feelers. Much of the causeway had now turned an eerie yellow colour and in the midst of the fog, Han could not make out the exit they had come through or the large ventilation shaft on top of doors, which he knew would be belching out yellow smoke.

"Run!"

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**AN: Please review! and tell me all your thoughts, questions whatever! **


	12. Laundry Shooting

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 11. Laundry Shooting

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**Chapter dedicated to**: **Sweetyamiyugigirl for her amazing support. **

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**AN: Thanks everyone for the reviews! They have been most wonderful**

**A WARNING: this story is going to darker - much darker. The drunken fun of the first few chapters is now over and like I promised this will be an Adventure/Mystery/Horror story. I don't believe I will need to change the rating but future chapters may contain ideas that some people will find disturbing. **

**However there will still be humour - after all Darth Vader still needs to give Luke 'the talk'. **

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**28th ****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.45 HOURS –LEVEL 1**

"We have to get to that elevator," cried Wedge as he hurtled down the causeway with Wes and Hobbie following close behind.

The three Rouges, who were by now professional experts in the art of the impossible, had found a freight lift tucked away on the other side of the warehouse by pure chance. It was a small square structure and like all the freight elevators, the metal cage was completely sealed off from the main atmosphere of the skyhook. According to the technical specifications, the freight elevators functioned without any ventilation to prevent moisture damage to certain delicate specimens. To solve this inconvenience, the Andaman skyhook had simply decided to make the entire freight transportation system one gigantic complex of airless tunnels, tubes and shafts. Personnel were issued with standard vacuum resistant spacesuit that had enough oxygen to last only a few hours. For the Rebels this system was clearly a stroke of life saving luck.

"I hope this is going to work," groaned Wes as they all skidded to a stop besides the fluorescent yellow lockers that contained the delivery personnel's vacuum suits.

"It will work," hissed Leia as she hastily pulled on the closest suit within reach. The arms and legs were clearly not tailored with her short stature in mind and it wasn't long before she nearly tripped over in her haste.

"Careful, lovely," muttered Han a little too smugly as he helped her into the sealing chamber that pumped all the unwanted air out of the lift.

Chewie who was practically bursting out of his suit, growled with empathy.

"I'd like to get my hands on those damned terrorists," snapped Wes furiously, as he pulled his vacuum suit out from between his legs where they chaffed him terribly. "Whoever thought it was fun to disrupt this negotiation is gonna regret the day he was born."

As the hiss of air escaping through the tiny vents in the chamber finally subsided, everyone managed to breathe a sigh of relief. Until that is when Wes pressed the button for LEVEL 20 and found that the lift gave no response.

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**28th****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 16.50 HOURS – LUKE'S QUARTERS, PENTHOUSE**

Luke twisted and turned in earnest now, as he felt through the force the echoes of distress emulating from around the penthouse. Someone had fallen just outside his door and from the lack of any sounds of movement, that person could possibly be dead. He was quite certain, although not positively sure, it was a stormtrooper; possibly the one who had suggested they greased him up like a particularly stubborn bolt.

Whatever was happening out there was creating both fear and panic. He was far too much of an amateur in the art of force detection to pinpoint the thoughts of the individuals but he could feel that over whelming sensation that they were fleeing in desperation from something.

Suddenly that last voice he wanted to hear in the galaxy echoed inside his head:

_Son, are you still in the laundry shoot?_ Demanded the telepathically transmitted voice of Darth Vader, who still managed to sound just as menacing when disembodied.

_None of your business,_ spat Luke and tried in vain to construct some form of mental shielding.

_Listen to me!_ Snarled Vader and added a particularly nasty sensation to accompany his words, _dactyl gas is being pumped into the ventilation system. The laundry compartment is not open the skyhook's atmosphere. You must free yourself from the opening and slide down into the collection tank, or else you shall be poisoned. _

_Wait? What? Dactyl gas? What in the star is -,_

_Just do as I say! _Commanded Vader and their connection was cut.

Pausing for a stunned moment, Luke decided that it was probably a great gamble but Vader had shown no intention of wanting him in any state other than alive. He was going to have to listen to the Sith Lord's advice and for once he was secretly glad Darth Vader had bothered to give it to him.

It took him what felt an eternity of twisting, turning and force exertion to move only a few centimetres into the laundry shoot. The entrance was built as a partial vacuum chamber. The first half a metre of the shoot was much narrower than the rest and had two vinyl rubber seals at either end of the section. Luke had managed to free most of his body from this narrow chamber by now and it was a firm relief to hear the outside seal closing.

With a huge amount of effort, he felt himself slide free of the inner seal and before he could even have time to brace his hands against the polished duralsteel sides of the shoot, he was slide head first into oblivion.

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**28th****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.00 HOURS – LEVEL 8**

General Veers and Admiral Piett, decked out with oxygen face masks and out-space protection suits, flanked their Sith Lord as he organised an evacuation of the penthouse. The delegates who were still at the negotiating complex were unaccounted for but all the stormtroopers, including the one who had lost consciousness because he had unwisely removed his helmet, were assembled inside the freight lift.

"Damned terrorists," one of the stormtroopers muttered, "you'd think we were doing them a favour, offering them the chance to join the Empire."

"Unfortunately," replied General Veers grimly, "some people just don't know what's good for them."

As the vacuum pump finally rid the sealed chamber of the last remnants of yellow smoke, General Veers allowed himself a small moment of relaxation. It was a testament to the discipline of the Imperial Army that no one batted an eyelid at the sudden emergence of billowing yellow smoke. Instead the evacuation routine had been carried out with expert precision and time, leaving no Imperial behind.

The assembled party consisted of only of the Imperials who had remained inside the penthouse complex. The ambassadors of both sides were still unaccounted for as the communications signals were completely disrupted by the presence of the dactyl smoke particles. The four stormtroopers who had been sensible enough not to remove their helmets whilst on duty were unfazed, which General Veers secretly admired. He found that clones were far more adaptable, durable and courageous than normal soldier could ever be, particularly the clones of the 501st legion.

Lord Vader had decided to take the evacuees to the laundry complex, which had its own circulation system, to allow himself and the Admiral to refresh their air supply before heading out on their rescue operation.

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**28th ****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.00 HOURS – THE LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

Luke was hurtling head first into total darkness with only the sensation of sliding to tell him he was actually moving. Within seconds he was flying head first out of the tube and dropping several metres through thin air into a the largest pile of dirty laundry he had ever seen.

It was not an unpleasant landing judging by previous experiences but being surrounded by other people's filthy underwear was enough to make him leap out of the rubbish heap with force assisted speed. The bits of laundry that had hooks clung on stubbornly to his fraying brown shirt and it took Luke several minutes of acrobatic contortions and frantic tugging to remove what he thought was the last of the leech like pieces of clothing.

The room he had so fortuitously dropped into was nothing but a blank empty chamber panelled with huge sheets of pressed durasteel. At first glance the only entrance or exit seemed to be the laundry shoot suspended metres in the air high above the conical pile of multicoloured laundry that had haphazardly gathered in the centre. From the musty rank smell, it seemed that the laundry had been accumulating for quite a long time.

After several moments of frantic searching he discovered a well concealed portal just behind the stinking pile but Luke saw to his dismay that it required some sort of identification to open. The portal, typical of other doors leading into vacuum chambers, was more than a metre thick – much longer than his lightsabre - and could only be open magnetically. With a dull sign, Luke slumped against the side and wondered dismally if his luck was ever going to get any better.

_Well, _he consoled himself, _at least it can't start raining._

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**28th ****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.00 HOURS – THE FREIGHT LIFT BETWEEN LEVELS**

"Okay, your _bright_ idea," said Leia emphasising the word bright with vicious sarcasm, "is not working"

"I can see that," grumbled Han as he shifted as much as he dared to allow Leia to clamber up onto the room of the lift with him. They were currently precariously balanced on top of the square freight, which was the only thing separating them from the cloud of noxious gas outside. Only a faint humming noise in the distance suggested that the power generators were still holding out.

The lift shaft spanned over twenty vertical levels of the skyhook but the entrance to Level 2 had been temporarily sealed off with Cumogel presumably by the maintenance staff who were in the middle of fixing the lift. Although the lift doors to the third level were so far away that they simply blended into the endless inky darkness, Han was not holding out hope that they were open either.

"We could climb up," said Hobbie as he peered up at them through the maintenance hatch that Chewie had busted open with brute force.

"No chance," replied Han grimly. The sides of the lift shaft were polished to perfection by the engineers who had wanted to reduce friction to an absolute minimum. Unlike the other lifts that Han had the misfortune of being stuck in, the Andamans used a magnetic propulsion system that required the sides of the lift to slide against the magnets imbedded in the shaft walls.

In the distance the humming noise of the generator that had been a constant background noise suddenly vanished, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. Within a second it was replaced by a gush of air that swept sweeping down from above.

"The power-," began Leia before Han's hand shot out and clasped her mouth shut. He listened intently, making no sign that Leia's murderous glare was having any effect.

"How many elevators travel down one shaft?" he asked suddenly. Leia simply stared back at him with incredulous eyes.

"One, dimwit," replied Hobbie impatiently.

"Well you didn't read the guidebook well enough before you got here," said Han calmly, "because all the shafts are interconnected and a lift is about to land on top of us."

With a muffled scream, Leia jumped back down into the opening, deftly followed by Han.

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**28th ****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.10 HOURS – THE LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

The sole light in the room blinked abruptly and then fizzled for a few seconds before plunging the entire room into complete darkness. However on the bright side, if being in the dark could have one, Luke heard the magnetic lock click open on the portal door.

Using the force to guide his way to the portal door, Luke turned the stiff circular handle on the hatch and felt the hatch reluctantly give way.

Outside in the corridor the auxiliary power generator was still running and dim ghostly blue light illuminated sporadic patches of grey wall and white flooring. The air tasted stale and bitter and coldness seemed to seep through the atmosphere making Luke shiver despite his padded pilot's jacket. Condensation from the poorly filtered air was dripping down the durasteel walls and forming damp puddles on the floor.

The incessant low hum of the auxillary generator was the only sound he could hear besides his own echoing footsteps and he suddenly felt quite uncomfortable standing in the dank corridor unsure if it was quite as deserted as it seemed.

_This place is _creepy_, _he thought as he continued in an arbitrary direction he had chosen on whim, _I hope there is actually a way out here._

Ahead of him, he saw several abandoned laundry carts and even more disused droids that should have process the laundry. On closer inspection, he realised that the droids were not broken. Their outer casings were still relatively new and a thin synth-silk transparent had been carefully wrapped around every exterior to preserve their joints from dust and condensation damage. The transparent wrappings had never been disturbed and faded blue manufacturer's hologram labels were still glowing on the intact synth-silk. The adjacent laundry carts had accumulated thin coatings of dust disturbed only in places where fat drops of condensation had dropped into the bottom of the box like structure.

Luke continued down the corridor after the brief yet puzzling inspection. Thinking back to the large pile of laundry and the musty smell that it had exuded, he guessed the laundry had not been process for days…perhaps no laundry had ever been washed. Instead the delegates' soiled clothing had simply been dumped at the bottom of the collecting room and left unattended. It was as if the Andamans were not concerned that their guests would eventually run out of clothing and wonder where the laundry had disappeared to.

The dimly lit but otherwise empty corridor finally widened into a circular area and came to an abrupt end. Three vacuum tight portals, similar to one that Luke had fortuitously managed to exit from just ten minutes ago, were arranged around the walls enclosing the circle. No signs or any other hints as to where each door led were visible and it didn't help that they all looked identical.

_I supposed I should just take the middle one,_ thought Luke apprehensively. The force was being annoying evasive every time he attempted to use its assistance and he thought it was mostly his agitated frame of mind. The chilled atmosphere, ghostly blue lighting and unused laundry droids only exacerbated his unease.

Luke cautiously stepped through the middle portal and surveyed his surroundings with suspicion.

Another corridor, identical to the one that he had just left, stretched out before him but this one at least seemed to have several keypad secured doors leading off it into what Luke presumed must be offices of some kind. The keypads had all been disabled and when Luke pushed the release of the first door it automatically swung open on a reflex mechanism that require no power.

The room beyond was indeed an office as Luke had assumed but it was not the office of a low level bureaucrat responsible for a few humble laundry droids and a handful of unenthusiastic underlings. Instead, in stark contrast to the damp uninviting corridor outside, this office was panelled with aromatic cedar wood and decorated in much the same style as the majestic negotiating chambers that the delegates frequented. Works of Andaman art hung on that wall and, even though Luke had no understanding of such matters, they looked expensive. A huge cedar wood desk with ornately carved decorations on every side dominated the room. The desk was conspicuously bare but for a computer that looked much less outdated than many of terminals Luke had access to in the Alliance. Behind the desk, an imposing chair of dark Arkanian leather with a polished finish loomed out from the relative darkness of the room. In the gloom Luke could make out other pieces of furniture including a sofa, two other armchairs and a handful of empty bookcases, placed methodically throughout the room.

A few scraps of white paper, which looked from afar like memos had been dropped in the middle of the room in front of the desk when the occupant had left. The flowers in a delicate vase atop one of the bookcases were still quite fresh and added a splash of colour in the otherwise sombre office.

_Well, this is a good a place to hide as anything I've seen so far_, thought Luke stepping into the gloom. The main lights, which should have turned on automatically, were now useless and he was forced to wedge the door open with a small black side table that was standing near the entrance. The eerie blue glow of the auxiliary lights provided poor illumination and Luke was unable to make out the entire office. A stretch of blank darkness towards the back was interrupted by unidentifiable angular shapes, lurking just out of the light.

Cautiously, Luke stepped around the desk and his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness until he saw to his surprise that the angular shapes were not more furniture but rather the outline of another door, a durasteel reinforced monstrosity that was still sealed electromagnetically by its own small generator that was silently churning out power to the lock alone.

Something, his own fear and self-preservation or a jolt in the force, told him quite firmly that he did not want to go in there but he couldn't quite help himself as he unbuckled his lightsabre. Luke Skywalker's curiosity was going to kill more than a cat.

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**AN: Please review! Your feedback is always wonderful and enlightening!**

**NEXT CHAPTER: I am considering putting up unfinished chapters on my website which has been restored. You can read a chapter piecemeal as I write would anyone be interested?**


	13. Cunning Ploys

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 12. Cunning Ploys

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: Sorry for the fairly long delay in putting this up online, med school is out to destroy me body and soul...anyway please enjoy and thank you everyone for you wonderful, supportive reviews!**

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.01 HOURS – THE FREIGHT LIFT BETWEEN LEVELS**

Just as Han slotted the maintenance hatch back into place, they all heard a metallic screeching in the distance that seemed to grow louder with each passing second. Their lift started to shake as the shaft itself shuddered ominous from the unstoppable decent of another twenty tonne lift.

"We're all going to die!" screamed Wes as he dropped to the floor and covered his head with heads. Hobbie followed suit with his own garbled string of panic filled words.

"No we're not," snapped Han who was still staring at the roof as if he could see the other lift crashing down on them. "These lifts have been reinforced to prevent this kind of accident."

No one bothered to believe him.

Chewie, with an angry growl, stabbed his crossbow between the two lift doors and attempted to pry them open with his phenomenal strength. However, unlike the ordinary domestic doors which had an opening reflex mechanism installed in case of power cuts, the lifts had been designed to prevent people from entering after loss of power. The doors were firmly jammed together and as Chewie applied more force, his steel crossbow simply started to bend.

The screeching suddenly became a deafening roar, on reflex Han pushed Leia to the floor and covered her with his own body. Not more than a second later, there was a horrendous crunching noise as twenty tonnes of metal crashed onto their metal cage at astonishing speed. The roof and the walls buckled, finally compressed like a weak tin can being crush by pounding fist.

The cacophony of screams rang in Han's ears long after the lift had stopped moving.

"Oh my stars!" whispered Wedge weakly as he tried to unfurl from the foetal position. The lift had been shortened by at least half a metre and now there was very little head room for Chewie.

"I'm not hurt," cried Hobbie scrambling over Wes's prone body and patting himself down with disbelief.

Leia, whom Han was still pinning to ground, pinched him very hard in a sensitive area and sent him hurtling away at lightspeed.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," hissed the Princess, her cheeks red with embarrassment and adrenaline.

Han merely smirked back at her and artfully dodged the incoming swipe.

Chewie snarled at their childish antics and gestured upwards, as much as he could. The full load had been borne by the sides of the lift, as the engineer had no doubt intended and it was the sides which were buckled and compressed when the mechanical support failed. The roof was still pretty much horizontal but the maintenance hatch might not be able to open with twenty tonnes of twisted metals crushing it from above.

"Alright, I suppose up is really our only option," replied Han who was now surverying the roof.

He reached out to brace himself against the sides of the lift in one corner and clambered up to the reach the now much lower roof. As his arms were about to touch the ceiling, the terrifying hiss of melting metal caused Han to jerk backwards just in time as the tip of a red lightsabre thrust it way into the lift, inches from his left ear.

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.10 HOURS – THE FREIGHT LIFT BETWEEN LEVELS**

It took less than ten minutes for Darth Vader to cut through the bottom of the lift. Everyone, including the two armourless officers had survived thanks to his personal intervention. Once the lift had started its plummet to the depth of the skyhook, Darth Vader physically levitated his men to prevent them from falling into the bottom of the lift at two hundred miles an hour and liquidising their internal organs.

However the satisfaction of saving his men was short lived because when he finally cut an opening in the bottom of the steel trap, he was greeted by Solo's smirking face. The force had long since informed him that the irritating smuggler was still alive underneath them and if Darth Vader had a choice, he would have happily left the annoying rebels trapped in their compressed metal cage.

He did take some perverse satisfaction in watching the Rebels jump back like a pack of frightened rats when the thick chunk of durasteel that had been both the floor and ceiling of two lifts dropped with a deafening thunk into their midst.

Darth Vader swooped gracefully through the hole he had created like a predatory bird ready for the kill and he was satisfied to see that the idiotic Rebels were finally eyeing him with more terror than annoyance.

Without bothering to address any of them, as they were unworthy of his notice, Darth Vader plunged his lighsabre into the lift door and started the laborious process of producing another exit.

"Hey, you can't do that," cried one extremely whinny rebel, whom Intelligence had informed him was Derek Klivian, failed TIE pilot and traitor to the empire. Darth Vader was somewhat glad to see that the training process had managed to weed out the undesirables like Klivian but now that he was a Rebellion delegate, Vader was not able to crush his trachea as he would have liked to the moment he laid eyes on the idiotic boy.

He simply ignored the comment but the pilot's counterpart, the equally stupid and infinitely more annoying Wes Janson jumped it.

"We can't go out there; it's filled with clouds of dactyl crystals!"

For a moment Vader considered what would happen if he simply slaughtered them all right now inside the confined lift and informed the Andamans that they had been murdered in a fit of passionate rage by young Luke Skywalker. It was a plausible argument but getting his son to co-operate was another matter, besides in the future these 'friends' could be used to control the boy in his official capacity as his sith heir.

"You have vacuum suits," rumble Vader as he continued cutting a perfect circle into the durasteel doors.

Above them the Imperial stormtroopers, eager to do their duty, were all kneeling down around the hole in the ceiling with their blasters trained on the disruptive rebels.

"Yes but the dactyl crystals are poisonous -," said Wedge Antilles, "we won't last long."

"You will not be out in the open for long," snarled Vader, "I am going to manually open the main air release system and rid the skyhook of the gas."

The upstart Princess, who had thankfully kept silent for the last few minutes, turned to glare at him haughtily.

"You do realise," she said imperiously, "the generator is down and there will be nothing left to breathe once you release the hatch."

"Your oxygen pouch is full, your highness," replied Vader scathingly, "it will last you until I have repaired the generator."

The Princess opened her mouth to complain but it turned into an expression of astonishment when she full processed what Darth Vader had just said.

"_You_ can fix the skyhook's generator?"

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.45 HOURS – THE OFFICE, LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

"_Cortosis metal, the only material in the galaxy that can disarm a lightsabre,"_Ben Kenobi had once told Luke so many years ago in that desert hut on the outskirts of nowhere. Now as he stared down at his broken lightsabre fizzing with a dying spark, Luke wished fervently that his old mentor would appear to him once again.

The green lightsabre of his own making was not quite up to Jedi standards and definitely didn't have the aggressive cant or balanced finesse of Anakin Skywalker's. However it was his favourite and only weapon apart from the temperamental blaster he still carried around for nostalgic purposes but the blaster was more likely to blow up in his face than hit the enemy.

Glaring at the metal door as if it was maliciously celebrating the demise of his treasured lightsabre, Luke suddenly wondered for the first time since that heart-breaking moment when his lightsabre spluttered and died why there was a cortosis enforced door in the laundry bay of an Andaman skyhook.

The Andamans had been more than accommodating when he refused to part with his lightsabre. In the guide book, there had been no indication that the Andamans found ligthsabres, the force or the Jedi remotely interesting. The guards and custom officials had merely waved him on as if he was an eccentric inventor who was in love with novelty lights. Now as he sat in near darkness nursing his lightsabre, the pieces of this puzzle started to fall into place.

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.45 HOURS – THE GENERATOR – LEVEL 1**

The tall black shape of the galaxy's only known Sith Lord strolled purposefully along the suspended walkway that overlooked the gigantic and mournfully silent generator complex. Behind him trailed a mismatch group of Imperials and Rebels more accustomed to tearing into each other with blasters and vibroblades than walking together in a bid to save their collective lives. They were still fighting against the bite of partial vaccum created after Darth Vader had manually flung open the proverbial flood gates of the main air export system and sent the entire atmosphere of the skyhook spiralling into space.

Princess Leia momentarily admired the sheer absurdity of the situation before her thoughts turned back to far more important things. She ran forwards swiftly and silently until she was parallel with the looming figure of Darth Vader.

"You said Luke had fallen down a laundry shoot," she said – it was no time for small talk, "and that the laundry system has its own supply of air,"

"Yes, Princess," growled Vader, his voice more than impatient.

"Well, why?" she asked looking inquisitively up at the blank mask, "why does the laundry system need its own atmosphere."

Darth Vader suddenly stopped marching and if Leia hadn't been staring at him like hawk she might have stepped right off the end of the walkway into forty feet of very thin air. The metal walkway had been broken raggedly in two and the other half was hanging at a dangerous angle over five feet away. In the gap, Leia could make out the twisting expanse of still hot metal fuel lines filled with plasma that were snaking their way towards the central engine of the generator. Several seconds later, she felt the adrenaline surge and her heart started to pound furiously in her chest as if it was eager to escape.

"What's going on?" snapped Han's voice from the back of the line where he was unable to see anything but the stormtrooper's shiny white helmets.

"The walkway is broken," replied General Veers crisply

Leia looked across the expanse of the rift and wondered if she could jump across but the nearest support cables that held the other end of the structure were cleanly broken. The next set seemed ready to snap at any minute. They looked almost as if they had been attacked with laser cutters rather than frayed by wear and tear. The cuts were straight, precise and the second set of suspension cables looked like they had been deliberately left half finished so that some optimistic pedestrian would jump across and plummet to their doom.

"It has clearly been sabotage," commented Admiral Piett, who was hovering over her shoulder.

_Yes – sabotage,_thought Leia, her mind turning furiously, _perhaps this is not the only attempt but simply the most blatant…_

Then suddenly like a lightning bolt out of the blue another question that Leia had overlooked came back to haunt her.

"Did you see anyone else in the skyhook," she asked urgently but Darth Vader was not listening, he had held out his hand and was using the force to drag the opposite section closer.

The Rogues who were standing a few feet away stared in utter amazement, their jaws dropping open like lead weights. Even Han who had now elbowed his way to the front could not contain his impressed expression.

Leia's brain was still churning with a torrent of thoughts.

There not had been anyone blocking their path to the warehouse. The usual efficient group of security personnel and janitor droids had not been present outside the penthouse when they took the lift down. The Andamans cargo overseers that Chewie had been so worried about never materialised in the warehouse. Even the droid workers had been carefully put away in their purpose built storage facility.

_It seemed as if..._

_Oh Stars no!_

_It seemed as if the skyhook had been deliberately deserted! This was not a terrorist attack on an unpopular negotiation – this was a cunning murder orchestrated by the state!_

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_**AN: Thank you everyone for bearing with another cliffhanger - I promise to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Additionally if people want to pm me or send me an email, I shall be happy to put together a mailing list for new chapters before they get beta-ed and added to .**_


	14. The Joys of Panelling

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 13. The Joys of Panelling

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed – I think I really need to change the genre from adventure to horror at some point.**

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 17.45 HOURS – THE GENERATOR – LEVEL 1**

"Are you alright, Princess?" asked Wes but his voice was barely audible against the groaning of the strained metal walkway as it righted itself into a horizontal position. Unlike everyone else, Leia's eyes were now transfixed by Darth Vader's demonstration of sheer supernatural power. She had seen the force in action many times before and this small trick was just the lid of the box that contained Vader's tricks.

"I'm fine," she muttered distantly as Darth Vader stepped across the small crack in the walkway where a five foot gap had been moments before. The steel cables that were still suspending the broken segment did not even creek under his tremendous weight.

"Move along," ordered Admiral Piett calmly as he stepped passed Leia and led the platoon of stormtroopers towards the pitch blackness that enshrouded the end of the walkway. The main control panel of the monstrous generator complex was crouched somewhere in the impenetrable darkness.

"I just thought of something very important," she whispered as Wes moved to stand next to her. "I think – I worked a bit of something out."

Wes looked predictably baffled but he hurried across to the other side like the rest of their party and spent the next five minutes of their silent walk shooting her curious glances.

When they finally reached their destination, Leia saw the vast control complex towered two stories above her like an enormous white egg. The platform they were standing on encircled the widest part of the egg and the rest of the structure was hidden beneath the criss-cross of walkways that intersected at the platform.

All the control panels were blank and lifeless but as Leia carefully laid her hand across a monitor she could feel the surface was still lukewarm. Darth Vader was already lifting a service panel from the control complex like a skilled mechanic acting on instinct.

"Let's hope he's not completely delusional," Leia heard Wedge murmur.

**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.00 HOURS – THE OFFICE, LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

Luke did not know how long he had been sitting in near darkness cradling his lightsabre and feverish trying to piece together the twists and turns of a plot so cunning that he was still unable to see the situation clearly with hindsight. The force, or just instinct, told him that everything had gone according to plan for the attackers and even after the events had unfurled, Luke doubted the truth would even be suspected by the other survivors...if there were any.

He had probed the force countless times to try and find the live signatures of his friends and enemies but there had been no signs of life. However he had not felt the sheering pain of forced permanent separation or heard anyone's mental anguish at the point of death.

_No news, as commander Narra had said, was good news._

Turning his mind back to the question at hand, he pushed his churning mind harder in pursuit of answers.

The laundry droids had never been activated, the transport carts had never been loaded, the laundry had never even been washed. Most frightening of all, the Andamans didn't expect anyone would ever find out – precisely because they had known from the very beginning that their 'guests' would not live long enough to miss their soiled underwear. Now everything boiled down to one word: _why?_

The Andamans had initiated the negotiations with the Empire and invited the Alliance along like savvy merchants looking for the best deal. It had been in their best interests to ensure no dissident factions could disrupt the negotiations, and they demonstrated this by providing a magnanimous amount of security. In the cold darkness of the plush office, Luke realised with mounting dread that the guards had not been there for their security but rather to prevent any ill time escape attempts.

That left only one explanation – the Andamans had deliberately lured the leaders of both the Empire and Alliance onto a small luxury skyhook to murder them with dactyl gas. How they were going to explain this to galaxy was their problem but Luke could guess what the scene would look like once the smoke cleared. Pristine bodies without any physical marks could be used as a blank slate to orchestrate whatever scenario of death the Andaman government fancied. The Empire and Alliance instead of rightfully blaming an inconsequential back water system would be lining up to condemn each other.

Did the Andamans in their fiercely cloistered world enjoy watching the galaxy escalate into a bloody battle field? How could they benefit from escalating hostilities? They could not manufacture enough weapons to become prosperous in an arms race nor could they lay claim to any important hyperspace lanes.

_So why? Why were they doing this? And what was behind this force forsaken door?_

It was only the sudden blinding flash of pure white light that shocked Luke from his thoughts. He fought desperately to cover his eyes against the glare and it was only after several moments that he realised it was not flash of an explosion but just the lights coming back on.

_Someone's fixed the generator!_

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.20 HOURS – THE DIPLOMATIC NEXUS – LEVEL 8**

Leia looked frantically around the familiar cavernous hall of the negotiating complex. The Diplomatic Nexus was a huge oval building lavishly decorated to display that best of Andaman craftsmanship. It contained only one thing – a giant oval table made from transparent crystal that had to be placed inside the room before the ceiling was built. The doors, despite being majestic could not have allowed such a structure to come through.

The building looked deserted. The Alliance delegates who should have been negotiating the finer points on the plasma transactions were nowhere to be seen.

After Darth Vader had miraculous restored power to the whole skyhook, the Rebels and the Imperials had rushed off to find the delegates. Leia had fervently hoped the delegates had managed to find somewhere to hide. The absence of their bodies was probably good news but every time Leia looked around she was afraid she might catch a glimpse of a pale hand or even a face contorted in terror.

"There is no one here," confirmed Vader who had somehow snuck up behind her whilst her imagination unleashed a torrent of horrendous images.

"I can see that," she replied icily, feeling very uncomfortable having the Sith Lord leaning over her shoulder but she refused to turn around.

"They may have taken refuge in a lift," Darth Vader continued, "we will make our way to the control deck and use the lifeforms scanner for survivors."

Leia hadn't thought of that and she refused to feel stupid as she continued to stare across the vast expanse of the oval room. It was then something odd caught her eye, one of the doors leading off the balcony had not closed properly, it was ever so slightly a jar. Considering she had been told that the old fashioned wooden swing doors were merely decoration panels, Leia decided this was definitely very odd.

"You take the Imperials to control deck, we'll investigate here."

Three metres away Han looked up in alarm.

"Wait a moment, princess," he said hurrying towards her.

"Han go with the Imperials, you can take Wedge with you too. I'll stay on this level and see if I can find any signs of the delegates."

"Now that's just -,"

She gave him her most intimidating look and he shrunk away without protest. Han had learnt when to pick a fight with her.

Darth Vader didn't seem to object – it was fortunate that he had not also spotted the door.

Once the Imperials with a very disgruntled Han and vaguely confused Wedge had left, Wes and Hobbie came running up to her their eyes gleaming with excitement.

"You got something up your voluminous sleeve, princess?" Wes asked.

"We're going through a door."

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**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.20 HOURS – THE OFFICE, LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

In twenty minutes, Luke had tried at least a hundred different combinations of passwords for the computer and the system had not yet locked him out despite so many wrong attempts. It was quite clear that he was not going to be able to hack into the machine without R2, who had been forcibly incarcerated in a wooden crate upon their arrival at the Skyhook.

The shiny metal door behind the desk had looked very obvious in the dark but now as Luke turned to study it, he suddenly realised why the designer had not thought to disguise it. The door was set further into the wall than the surrounding wooden panelling and somewhere there was a secret switch that enabled an identical wooden panel to slide smooth over the door, hiding it in plain sight. The owner of the study had left in such a hurry that he had not even bothered to replace the wall panel and hide his secret room. Evidently, he was very confident that no-one would be alive to find it.

Luke stretched out to the force using the swirling currents to help locate the hidden mechanism. It was no use; he was far too excited to achieve the calm state of mind. Instead he resorted to fumbling awkwardly in the gap between the door and the adjacent panels and before long his hand found a round flat knob hidden underneath the left panel. Giving it a rough push with the flat of his hand, he waited breathlessly to see what would happen.

A red light flashed imperviously on the door control and red stencil shaped text started to scroll across the narrow oblong monitor on the security code keypad. The words sent a sharp chill up his spine and a slow creeping terror started to seep through his body.

"_Panel cannot be replaced – room is occupied"_

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**AN: Another Cliffhanger – try not to hate me too much. Clinical school is really out to kill me and the patients really don't help when they give you their illnesses...**

**Anyway another chapter should be up soon – if I don't die in the near future.**


	15. Already Occupied

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 14. Already Occupied

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**AN: Thank you for everyone who reviewed – I really appreciated it.**

**Dlsky – thanks so much. You have a very interesting theory about the bodies and I will say that you are on the right tracks but it's not the only thing that dead bodies can be used for.**

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**28th****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.30 HOURS – SKYHOOK CONTROL CENTRE, LEVEL 2**

The basic design of the headquarters of the control suite reminded Darth Vader of his days as a padawan, eagerly pouring over the newest technology from all four corners of the galaxy. The programming being used to hold the entire complex together would not have been considered sophisticated even before the Clone Wars and yet this Chi-Square system was running the entire skyhook. The mechanical side of things looked only slightly better; the wiring technique on the motherboards was unique but complicated enough to indicate a certain degree of progress from the pre-Empire days.

"So, your Lordship," enquired the irritating smuggler, "what can we do with this piece of outdated junk?"

Despite agreeing with Solo on the technicalities, Darth Vader idly wondered how he was going to destroy this pest when the time came. Perhaps he would let his son do it...that would be a sweet revenge.

"I think we should just leave him alone," said Antilles in a strained tone of voice.

"I could help, ya know," continued Solo completely obvious to his friend's discomfort, "I used to work on the Clone transporters back when I was kid trying to earn a living."

The banal information was hardly worthy of note and Darth Vader continued to ignore the smuggler as he deftly opened the lifescanning software. Surprisingly the registry showed this program was classified and required several layers of secure coding to access. Something so basic and integral to the running of every ship would never have been classified unless there was a lot more to the situation than Vader had previously realised.

Hacking through the system was no real challenge for a man who had as a seven year old electronically freed an entire platoon of twilek slave girls from Jabba's palace with the mere stroke of a keyboard.

As the lifeform scanner loaded, Vader belated discovered that this program, unlike its contemporaries, had been recently updated with software that was restricted technology available to only military establishments within the Empire.

"Will you look at that," snapped Han Solo from behind Darth Vader, "these Andaman guys aren't so stupid after all."

When the loading screen with its irritating green bar had finally disappeared, several other people including Admiral Piett and General Veers had gathered around the vid screen discreetly competing for the best view.

A digital hologram of the entire skyhook zapped into existence, revolving serenely above the holoprojector. At first the whole complex with its multitude of concealed passages, secret walkways and hidden rooms looked completely deserted. Only a small cluster of bright red specks was visible on Level 2, which represented the team's presence in the control tower.

"Where's Leia?" demanded Solo as he trust his coarse features up against the vid screen blocking it from everyone's view.

Using the force, Darth Vader careless shoved Captain Solo into the opposite wall with a flick of his wrist and paused to enjoy the crunch of flesh and bone being slammed into solid durasteel.

"Hey!" protested the other Rebel, Antilles but one menacing glare in his direction caused the sallow youth to duck behind a holo terminal quaking in fear.

Temporarily free from distractions, Vader studied the revolving image intently. Like the bones of human beings, most skyhooks were designed as honeycomb structures encased in an ultra-light polymer shell. This skyhook was no different except the empty spaces between crisscrossing structures were not vacant. Even from the simple 3D image it was possible to see the extra durasteel pipes that had been laid down into obscure corners of what should be empty space and the extra layers of insulation installed in areas where the skyhooks should have been open to vacuum.

Zooming in on particular corner where a nexus of pipes, wires and air vents was visible, Vader leaned in with anticipation. It was has he had suspected, this particularly stretch of space surrounded the laundry collecting bay and inside, floating in mid air was one small red dot – Luke Skywalker.

* * *

**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.30 HOURS – THE OFFICE, LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

It seemed like an eternity before Luke could tear his eyes away from the words that were still serenely scrolling across the access panel:

_Room is occupied..._

Perhaps he had forgotten to breathe in the interim because he now found himself gasping for breath as he looked wildly around the brightly lit office as if expecting someone or something to suddenly spring from the woodwork. However as he reached out unconsciously to the force, a voice did jolt towards him like a flash of dark lightening.

_Son, you are well?_

The rumbling voice of Darth Vader echoed inside his head as he fought to shield his mind from the assault.

_Stop it! For stars sake?_

_What is going on?_ Demanded Vader, his tone suddenly sounding anxious.

_Nothing, just – _but even as Luke projected his thoughts through the force, he felt the strangest sensation as if his mind was being hijacked and separated from his body. Even as he lost control of his mind, Luke was forced to watch as many of his recently memories shifted into view like jerking snatches of a bad holomovie until finally the scrolling text appeared across his visual field in fiery red letters.

_There is someone there?_ Rumbled Vader sounding for the first time as if this had taken him by surprise, _that's impossible._

Then with one electrifying thrill, Luke found his mind slamming back into his body and he reeled backwards blindly into the desk.

_What did you do? _ He cried through the force as he tried to regain his balance.

_Can you open the door?_ Growled Vader, who clearly had no intention of listen to Luke's demands.

_For the last time! _

Luke wanted to shout something obscene but then realised that whoever – whatever was on the other side of the door would definitely hear that even if they hadn't already heard the previous commotion.

_No, _replied Vader abruptly, _you need to get out of there now,_

_What? Why?_

_You are in grave danger, young one. Move back into the laundry collecting bay._

_I am in the laundry collecting bay, I never left it,_ snapped Luke, feeling completely lost and even more annoyed at Vader's heavy-handed, positively tyrannical demeanour.

_You must have come through a door, some sort of pressurised portal,_

A sudden mental image of the three portals emerged spontaneous into Luke's mind,

_Yes, _rumbled Vader, _that is what I mean. Go back through those doors and head in the opposite direction past the laundry collecting tank and into the main processing area. _

Luke was almost tempted to ask what would happened if he decided he wanted to stay right where he was, but as the thought formed in his mind it was completely cut short by something much more important.

The metallic door was sliding open with a soft creaking sound that reminded Luke of rotten stairs in a haunted house.

_Room vacating..._

_Oh sithspawn,_ snarled Luke, _get me out of here!_

_

* * *

_

**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.30 HOURS – SOMEWHERE, LEVEL 8**

**Somewhere,** would be exactly what Han would have described their location, a place that existed but was not of sufficient importance to be given a name or pinpointed as a site. Somewhere was currently a wood panelled corridor leading into nowhere, a place that did not exist and therefore could be given a name.

"We turning back now, Princess?" asked Wes calmly,

"No," snapped Leia with frustration. "There must be a secret hatch or switch or rotating door..."

"I think you've been reading too many Tin-Tin comics," replied Wes

"But why would anyone build a dead end to a corridor?"

"Cos, it ain't a corridor, Princess," drawled Wes, "it's a cupboard."

He was right on one level, because behind the slightly ajar door that Leia had spotted was only four feet of corridor that was as long as it was wide, which made the entire structure look more like a room but there was something about the way it was built that made Leia completely convinced that it was a corridor, leading somewhere.

"Look, if you're bored then go back out and look for clues," said Leia in exasperation.

"Well, if you insist," muttered Wes and turned to leave but as he did so, Leia sensed him hesitating for a second.

"What?"

"I just realised something," whispered Wes, his voice suddenly tight, "I think we overlooked something in our search,"

"What!"

"Have you realised the ceiling of the hall is missing?"

Leia stumbled past Wedge onto balcony above the main hall and stared up towards the magnificent skylight only to find it had vanished. Now without the polythierline skylight which had once projected beautiful aurora like images across the entire dome of the ceiling, there was only a vast expanse of empty space separating them from the white washed ceiling of the room above.

"Now this is getting ridiculous," muttered Leia.

* * *

**28th****DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.35 HOURS – SKYHOOK CONTROL CENTRE, LEVEL 2**

"Where are you going?" cried Han as he dragged his aching body as fast as he could across the control centre to where Vader was already leading his troops away. The control centre gave him the creeps and he knew that even the company of the most irritable robot in the galaxy was preferable to being left alone with only the eerie buzz of the holo terminals.

The Dark Lord distained to reply but Han decided to take that as a good sign.

"You know, if you'd just be a bit more sociable I think we'd get along fine."

Admiral Anxious and General Gruffy gave him a pair of completely scandalised looks but Han just grinned right back at them and tagged along behind the merry band.

"Haven't heard from Luke yet," said Han as he edged closer to Darth Vader and five sets of blank eye sockets stared at him as the platoon of stormtroopers marched past, they probably had already taken bets on how long he had left to live, "thought you might be getting a bit worried, if you are his pop and all,"

"I mean, it would be weird if you were, cos then you'd be committing incest but I'm a generous man and I'll just assume you didn't know when you were pursuing him but now that you know, could you like lay off? I mean you know you can't do _it _with him because that would just offend every taboo and Luke deserves to meet a nice girl or _guy_ if he leans that way. Personally -,"

It might have surprised Han when he felt his air way being crushed by a massive invisible force but this didn't surprised anyone else. Black spots danced across his vision as Han clawed desperately at this throat.

"Captain Solo," rumbled Darth Vader who had not even turned around to look at Han's now purple face. "If you cannot restrain your tongue, I would be most happy to do it for you – _permanently_. You may think I am tolerating you but you are mistaken. I am merely binding my time until I will have the full pleasure of destroying you."

Suddenly the pressure on his throat was gone and Han collapsed into a shaking pile on the floor gasping for breath. The Imperial party marched on as if they had not witnessed the little scene.

"Dude," whispered Wedge as he knelt beside the still trembling Han, "you wanna watch your mouth."

It took several minutes before Han managed to choke back a reply:

"And what would be the fun in that?" he gurgled weakly.

* * *

**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.45 HOURS –LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

Luke pelted down the hallway as fast as his rubbery legs would carry him. His breath had now turned to ragged gasps and he was almost choking with fear.

For a moment he wanted to look back, to see if that _thing _was chasing him down the corridor but terror won over curiosity and continued staggering towards the entrance, praying the force would still be on his side.

Suddenly, the portal doors appeared right ahead of him and he felt his stamina return. If only he could get there before the horrifying creature snatched him. He could almost feel its rancid breath on the back of his neck and its decaying claws reaching out to snare his jacket.

His heart was pounding ferociously but the thumping of blood gushing to his ears could not drown out the deranged noise that was echoing down the empty metal corridor. The sickening, inhuman wail that was coming from the _thing_ was becoming louder as it started to gain on him. The loud, wet squelch of its bare feet hitting the concrete floor was become more frequent and determined. It had learnt to run.

Too panicked to use the force, Luke hurled himself towards the hatch and turned the handle as swiftly as his shaking limbs would allow. The door swung open painfully slowly but even as he waited for mechanism to finish turning, he didn't dare to look back. He couldn't bear the sight of that _thing _again, he knew that if he stared into its strange green eyes he would be frozen with shock and that would be the end of Luke Skywalker.

As soon as a viable gap had appeared, Luke bolted through the door, trying to block out the horrifying sounds that were following him. He ran blindly back towards the collecting room, stumbling over the slippery durasteel floor and as he hopped through the second door, he saw a most welcome sight.

Darth Vader and a whole platoon of stormtroopers were marching towards him.

"Father!" he shouted desperately, "you've got to save me!"

Two stormtroopers nearly dropped their guns in shock and the officers, Piett and Veers looked as if they were already feeling the dark side squeezing at their tracheas.

"There's – a _thing,"_ Luke panted, "it's crazy, it's – it's,"

Suddenly a he felt rather than saw a ripple of tension tear through the Imperial group and then he felt it. Slimy cold hands that had been pickled almost beyond recognition were snaking their way around his neck. He reached desperately for his lightsabre only to realise belated that it had been broken. A putrefied smell swamped his nostrils as _it_ leaned over him panting with exertion.

"Help," Luke gargled in despair as he clawed at the hard leathery fingers that were tightening around his throat.

The last thing he heard before he passed out was a faint wheezing laughter coming from the _thing._

_

* * *

_

**AN: Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review – I'd love to know what your theories are!**


	16. A Private Audience

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 15. A Private Audience

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

* * *

**AN: thank to everyone who has reviewed! **

* * *

**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.45 HOURS – LEVEL 8**

**Chewbacca **liked to investigate on his own, it was hard to pick up a good scent when surrounded by so many humans and their distinctive secretions, but this time he had inadvertently been separated from the others. There had been something, a lingering smell of decay and preservatives mixed into on paradoxical aroma, that was just fading away when Chewbacca caught the scent.

The wisp of that compelling yet repulsive smell had lead him far from Leia and Wes who were still gaping aimlessly at the ceiling in the Diplomatic Nexus. The smell was become stronger and like a bloodhound on the scent, Chewbacca could not bring himself to turn back. As the elegant wood panelled hallways turned to smaller narrower corridors and the number of twists and turns was already lost to him, the smell became stronger and more tantalising.

It reminded him strangely of Surströmming, a mixture of partially rotting fish that was soaked in preservatives several months too late but tasted heavenly, to wookiees at least. His mother used to make it with diced onion and she had loved to comment on the great irony that the dish represented. This smell was different, it had the faint rotten stench and the stronger tone of preservatives but none of the distinct fishiness that one would associated with a dropped tin of Surstromming. Instead it smelt more like pork or its closest olfactory neighbour: human flesh.

Suddenly a whiff become a full blown gush of sickly sweet odour assaulted Chewie's senses.

A stagnant pool of pale yellow liquid, the consistency of human urine was standing in the middle of the dimly lit corridor emitting an over powering smell. Beyond, other smaller puddles in the shape of human footprints trailed off into the distance.

* * *

**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.45 HOURS – LEVEL 8**

Staring silently into a thin air was a game that Wes' mother used to love playing with him in the days before she died. It was a challenge, she had whispered weakly, to see who could do it for the longest time. She had always won of course; he had never been good at staying quiet particularly if his life was on the line, danger seemed to loosen his better than any spirit in the galaxy.

"Like I said, _this _is getting ridiculous! Who in their right minds would remove the skylight before evacuating a skyhook?" demanded Leia, her arms folded and lips pouting.

"Maybe it was an expensive skylight," suggested Wes feeling glad that he had not been one to break the awkward silence.

"Or maybe they were afraid we'd be able to escape using it,"

"I doubt that," muttered Wes, "the Andamans don't look like people to do things by halves."

"What in the blazes do you mean by that?" whispered Leia, her eyes widening with sudden fear.

Wes looked back at her with as much nonchalance as he could muster. The truth was this disturbing thought had only just occurred to him in a flash of horrified inspiration.

"You don't really think they've forgotten, do you?" he asked looking into her frozen gaze, "you don't believe for a moment that a people so thorough in all matters would fail to check if their murder victims were actually dead?"

"No," she murmured weakly, "I really didn't"

* * *

**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.46 HOURS – LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

"Ahhhh!" with his most intimidating battle cry, Han Solo ran full tilt towards Luke's prone body and the monster that was still gurgling away behind him.

It looked straight at him and for a brief moment, Han could almost see a hint of malicious, calculating intelligence spark through the nefarious green eyes. The faint gurgling sound became a full blow crow of triumph and challenge but Han wasn't going to be scared away despite its unimaginably gruesome appearance.

He drew his blaster just before impact and fired, aiming straight for the creature's forehead but it twisted away with astonishing speed and the blaster bolt hurtled into the duralsteel wall behind, leaving a small smoking crater.

"Shiiii -," cried Han before he too collided head first with the unforgiving durasteel wall.

As he pulled himself upright, Han expected to feel those disfigured greying hands clutching at his throat but to his astonishment, as it reached out with the intention of ending his life, the slimy translucent body was flung by an invisible force against the opposite wall, where it landed with a sickeningly wet thud.

"Took you long enough," snapped Han as he staggered unsteadily towards Luke who was just reviving from his coma with immaculate timing.

"How long have I been out?" asked Luke looking perplexed.

"Nah, I was talking to your dad," replied Han with his lopsided grin, "but you know it's not every day he has to take his boss to the cleaners."

They both looked towards the prone corpse like body that now lay slumped against the wall with its neck at an alarming ankle. One wrinkled grey foot twitched occasionally but otherwise it was completely still.

"I always wanted to meet the Emperor," muttered Luke hoarsely, as he watched Darth Vader march up to the body, "I just never thought he would be naked, dripping wet and choking me with his bare hands."

"Yeah, I'd be worried if your fantasies were like that," quipped Han as he pulled Luke to his feet.

They shuffled nervously towards the solitary figure of Darth Vader looking down at the limp body of Emperor Palpatine, whose wrinkled face usually adorned the propaganda posters and military banners.

"He is dead," rumbled Vader with a finality that Luke found slightly unnerving.

"I can't believe you killed the Emperor," squeaked Wedge who had appeared behind them looking like a school boy who was about to be caught with death sticks.

"Yeah, ain't that treason?" asked Han looking far too smug for the situation.

"It is NOT the Emperor," snarled Vader, "it is merely a badly formed clone."

"Really?" asked Han with one cocked eyebrow, "well I hope his Majesty's real privates parts are not that mangled, cos they look like a tinned –"

This time it was not Vader but Luke who went for his vocal cord.

* * *

**AN: And you thought they were out of the woods - no worries there will be far more action adventure and shocking revelations to come! Please review, I love to hear your thoughts, theories and feedback.**


	17. Squelch

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 16. Squelch

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

**AN: Thank you everyone who reviewed especially Master Liz!**

* * *

**28th DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.50 HOURS – LAUNDRY COLLECTION BAY**

The Imperial officers and their platoon of stormtroopers grouped around the now still body of Emperor Palpatine in respectful silence. Admiral Piett looked suitably shocked and aggrieved but General Veers merely stared grimly down that the grotesque tangle of grey limbs with an odd expression of resolve mingled with satisfaction. Every now and again someone would shoot a furtive glance at Luke Skywalker trembling listlessly against the opposite wall.

Wedge Antilles started rubbing his face vigorously like a spice addict emerging from his latest trip. Han had thankfully fallen silent after all the jokes he could think of were thoroughly exhausted. No one mentioned Luke's incautious slip of the tongue, although the stormtroopers would be whispering together once they had the chance.

"We must return to the command centre," rumbled Darth Vader, breaking everyone out of their respective thoughts.

"Of course, my lord," said General Veers, the first person to snap to attention. With a single wave of his muscular forearm the five stormtroopers merged into formation and started to march back the way they had come.

"Wait!" cried Luke, "aren't you going to investigate where that _thing_ came from?"

Wedge shot him a brief terrified glance.

"Exactly why would I do that?" demanded Vader who covered the distance between them with three swift strides.

"Because there could be more of them!" snapped Luke, causing several short intakes of breath amongst the party.

Vader merely looked down at him through the blank impassive mask.

"I totally agree with the kid," said Han who had somehow managed to insinuate himself between father and son like a parody of a boxing referee. Unfortunately, one giant gloved hand slammed straight into his face and Han was swotted away like the inconvenient insect, Darth Vader believed him to be.

"_If _there are more of these creatures we will be able to detect them from the bridge of the skyhook and map their locations before planning a counterattack," stated Vader.

"But-,"

Before Luke could even protest, the same gloved hand that had shovelled Han to the other side of the corridor closed tightly around the back of his collar and he found himself being half dragged down the corridor.

"Hey, you put him down!" cried Han in a disturbingly nasal tone as he clutched his bleeding nose and prepared to chase down Luke's assailant.

Five dedicated stormtroopers turned their blasters on Han with deadly precision and even he knew it was time to back down.

"I'm watching you, your Lordship, always watching!" shouted Han belligerently from behind the wall of white armour.

* * *

**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 18.50 HOURS – LEVEL 8**

Leia stared down at the communications unit that was neatly tucked away in one small corner of the vast oval negotiation room and debated whether using it to contact the command centre was really worth the risk. It would stand to reason that the Andamans were monitoring any outgoing distress calls. She had embraced the thought that the Andamans knew they were alive and were happily watching them scurrying around the skyhook like trapped rats but what Leia could not understand was the reason _why_.

Although versed in the act of politics and the base, selfish motives that drove sentient behaviour, Leia had yet to encounter a situation where she simply could not see any plausible motive. The Andamans were a defensive, insular people who would like nothing better than to live in a galaxy of their own surrounded by impassable stretches of dead space. With this mindset, summarily executing the combined leadership of both the Empire and Rebellion was only going to cause a galactic uproar. The Emperor would hardly allow his right hand man and primary enforced to simply disappear into the ether and neither would he accept "accident" as an explanation, evenif it were _true_. Andaman would feel the full force of the Empire's wrath and they did not have enough weapons, ships or soldiers to deflect a full on planetary bombardment by a navy that was determined to avenge their Supreme Commander.

So why had the Andamans decided to set all Hell loose when they had everything to lose and nothing to gain?

In the distance she heard the tell tale growl of Chewbacca as he came striding back into the negotiation room still clutching his crossbow defensively.

"_There is something you need to see,"_ he roared urgently.

Looking up from the comm. unit, Leia filed away her doubts and looked up at Chewbacca.

"What is the problem?" she asked evenly.

"_We are not alone,"_ he replied bluntly and Leia felt the hair prickling on the back on the of her neck as a shiver of icy fear slide down her spine.

"Who's there?" she inquired, trying to keep her voice calm and controlled but the façade was difficult to maintain.

"_I'm not sure but it looks humanoid,"_

"We'd better report this in," added Wes, who was still standing beside her with his eyes fixated on the comm. unit, "I think it's way over our heads right now. How many do you think there are?"

"_Why don't you just come and have a look?"_ suggested Chewbacca, hoisting up his crossbow, an act which seemed to inspire an illogically large amount of confidence. Wes gave her an impassive glance before pushing his hand off the comm. unit with a veneer of bravado.

"Ladies first," he said without a hint of amusement.

They travelled through a labyrinth of corridors, some grand and ornate, others small and utilitarian but the trio's discordant footsteps echoed ominously down every corridor. Their destination was completely bare, undisguised metal panelling lined each side of the passage and harsh lights glared down at the durasteel floor, bathing everything in an unnatural shade of green. Under the bright neon lights it was impossible to miss the trail of poorly formed footprints made from a viscous yellow liquid.

"_It smells like decay,"_ said Chewbacca quietly, _"It smells like death walking,"_

Beside him Wes was turning a pale shade of grey,

"What _is_ it?" he whispered hoarsely.

"_I did not see the creature that made these,"_ rumbled Chewbacca, "_but it came from up there,"_

In the ceiling, just above a large pool of fluid, was a loose crooked tile that was soaked in yellow slime.

"I think you're right, Wes," said Leia grimly, "we need to get out of here."

* * *

**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 19.10 HOURS – CONTROL ROOM, SKYHOOK**

The control deck was much smaller than Leia had anticipated. It consisted only of the control suite and a lift separated by a large expanse of giant motherboard circuits mounted on metal frames arranged in precise columns. The walkway between the forest of giant processors formed an odd kind of passage, funnelling travellers towards the control suite. A whirl of lights accompanied by an eerie humming noise were all that Leia could make out in the gloom. It appeared the Andaman engineer simply never envisaged any sentient being having to set foot on this level and therefore declined to install any lights.

"There's no one here," gasped Wes as he emerged from behind a giant rectangular processor. "Where have they gone, what have they done with Wedge and Hobbie?"

"I think they might have gone to look for Luke," muttered Leia as she studied the revolving 3D holoprojection. It showed the structure of the skyhook and several red dots that were slowly moving up to the control deck.

Wes moved beside her to take a closer look and breathed a sigh of relief.

"They're heading back this way, maybe they found him."

"Well there's no red dot in the laundry facility," said Leia hopefully,

"Can we look for the transport deck?" asked Wes, "I really want to get out of here, now"

"You don't really think the Andamans would have left us an escape route that was so easy to find, do you?" asked Leia,

"It's worth a try," said Wes hopefully, "I can fly anything with an engine,"

Leia opened the keypad and typed in an entry into the computer. She watched as one level of the 3D map flashed green and a detailed real time image of the transport deck appeared next to the holoprojection. Like she suspected the hangar bay was completely empty. Their transports had been removed, most likely by the evacuating Andamans. However as she studied the image more closely she realised that something looked uncomfortably familiar.

"Guys," she said tightly, "come and have a look at the this,"

Chewbacca leaned forwards with anticipation and then growled fiercely.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Wes incredulously.

In the centre of the hangar bay where the control terminal had been when they first arrived was a now a neat stack of boxes marked faintly with the Rebel Alliance logo and tightly sealed with fluorescent duct tape.

"It's our stuff," whispered Leia, "the heavy duty weapons that we surrendered and our droids, datapads, comm. links, everything,"

"What's it doing in the middle of the hangar bay?" asked Wes feeling like he already knew the answer.

"_It's a trap,"_ growled Chewbacca, _"they are trying to catch us,"_

"I can't believe it, why are they playing these games?" cried Wes, "why can't they just kill us out right? Blow up the goddamn skyhook?"

"Because," Leia paused for a second as her thought arranged themselves, "because...there's something on this skyhook that they couldn't take away with them, something irreplaceable that they want."

"A million tonnes of dactyl crystals?"

"No, something they couldn't get again anytime soon..."

"_I don't understand,"_ growled Chewbacca, _"they planned this down to the last detail, why would they leave anything behind?"_

"Well, that is a sticking point," muttered Leia feeling even more confused now.

"Wait, we discovered the dactyl crystals _first_," said Wes suddenly, "we went rooting through their records and then stumbled upon the crystals by accident."

"Yes but -,"

"No wait, what if we were all giving these guys too much credit, what if their plan didn't go to plan?"

"Well of course it didn't, we are still _alive,_" replied Leia.

"I mean, what if the idea wasn't to kill us in the first place? What if they were going to use the dactyl crystals for something else entirely but we stumbled across them and then they decided they had to silence us."

Leia thought over this new idea for a moment, it seemed to make more sense than a detailed assassination attempt which would gain the Andaman system absolutely nothing. Perhaps just once in their obsessive compulsive history, the Andamans genuinely made a mistake.

"They still want us dead," replied Leia curtly.

"Yes but it also brings up something else, what on earth were they doing on this skyhook they needed to hide? And why did they invite us here in the first place?"

A sudden light beeping tone signalled the lift had arrived.

"Oh that would be Han and Wedge," said Leia with a sigh of relief, "Hopefully they bought Luke as well."

"Um Princess," muttered Wes, "there are no life signatures on board that lift."

In the distance Leia heard the unmistakeable squelching sound of bare feet slapping the durasteel deck.

* * *

**AN: The weird things strikes again. More father/son bonding coming up, so if anyone wants to see Luke/Vader take out some **_**things**_** (can't tell you want they are) keep reading**

**Please review and lots of kudos to everyone who has.**


	18. Into the Ether

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 18. Into the Ether

**Dedicated to: Dlsky for all your support!**

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating: G**

**Genre:**Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

* * *

**AN: Here is the long awaited chapter. I have taken the liberty of adding a Dramatis Personae to the beginning of this story so that people can keep track of the characters that appear**

**Also thanks you to: Carrie2Sky, SageofAges, Angana, Osprey Eamon, Bane wolfblood, du1387, Eavrne, Kereea, Chindu Prince of Darkness, Varya, Scifilover, Elemarth, dlsky, Elita One, Not to Mention, for all your reviews. I have decided to finish this story even if it takes me years!**

* * *

**28thDAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 19.20 HOURS – CONTROL ROOM, SKYHOOK**

The faint but instantly recognisable smell of ozone and burnt durasteel wafted through Lift 346a as it finished the ascent to the control deck. The stormtroopers were on edge, their blasters held at the ready in confident poses that suggested years of combat experience. General Veers had drawn his custom made blaster which was embossed with the Imperial logo and engraved with his name. In the opposite corner Han, Wedge, Hobbie and Luke stood together in a casual group trying to look as nonchalant as the dark figure of Darth Vader who was standing right in front of the lift doors waiting impatiently for them to open.

A pleasant mechanical voice bid them a good trip as the durasteel doors slid open with smooth precision.

From beyond the shining steel doors no sounds of blaster fire or screaming could be heard. Instead there was only the strange incessant humming of electronic motors as row upon row of giant processors worked endlessly to supply computing power for the skyhook.

Darth Vader did not even draw his lightsabre as he strode purposefully out of the lift and the stormtroopers immediately followed in his wake like five identical shadows.

"I hope something eats him," muttered Han darkly as the Sith Lord walked forwards through the eerie dim expanse of processors.

The occasional LED light sparked through the semi-darkness illuminating the floor and reflecting off the Sith Lord's armour in a flash of multicoloured light. The acrid smell was joined by something more pronounced as they neared the control deck. It was a stinging pungent aroma of strong preservative.

Han trailed after the stormtroopers, looking like he was walking down the Orange District alone at night and expecting to be mugged. Luke tagged along behind with one hand firmly on his broken lightsabre and the other on Han's blaster, which was sticking awkwardly out of his belt. Its owner had insisted Luke needed the weapon for 'refusing Vader's advances'.

"The princess was here," rumbled Vader as he turned his head to look towards the gathering group behind him.

"What?" Han looked up in shock. "What do you mean _was_?"

"She may still be here," rumbled Vader menacingly, making the statement sound more like a threat.

Suddenly a cacophony of tapping, scratching and muffled shrieks resounded from behind one of the wall panel as if something feral was trying to claw its way out.

"Leia," cried Luke looking feverishly around him to locate the source of the noise. It was coming from the control suite.

He rushed forwards, dodging nimbly past several stormtroopers. As he stepped into the pool of bright light that illuminated the control suite he felt his grip on the floor give way to a forceful slide and suddenly his body was jerking forwards, ramming straight into the back of Darth Vader. It was very unfortunate that the Sith Lord choose to turn around at that moment, completely unprepared for the human missile that was streaking in his direction.

Luke's nose collided first with a sharp edge switch, then the rest of his face slammed against the control panel and he felt Vader's upper body give way and lean backwards against the impact. However like a weighted dice, the Sith Lord righted himself in a most unnatural fashion causing Luke to bounce off like a balloon and land several feet away in a puddle of viscous yellow liquid.

Somewhere behind him Hobbie started laughing hysterically.

Looking down at his trousers, Luke realised that landing backside first had given him a very unappealing wet patch around his groin.

"It's not funny!" he snapped and his annoyance only increased when he sensed the stormtrooper's amusement. They had obviously pegged him as an accident prone idiot since the laundry shoot debacle and there was no doubt a handsome betting pool for when Luke Skywalker would next make a nerf's behind of himself.

The dull tapping continued with increase fervour until Luke could almost make out the string of swear words that were being directed towards them.

"Open that panel," demanded Darth Vader as he pointed to a seemingly random white rectangule to their left. The squad of stormtroopers hurried to obey and as they prised the panel from its socket with surprising swiftness, Leia and Wedge tumbled out. Her royal highness was covered in high grade industrial lubricant that had been used to line the interior of the panelling and Wedge Antilles was similarly marred but without a regal poise he resembled a drowning rat that had been fortuitous rescued from an oil slick.

"Ah Princess, how nice of you drop out," commented Vader in a most uncharacteristic display of sardonic wit. For a second no one had the slightest idea how to react but Leia, even surrounded by the disgusting aroma of lubricant rose to the challenge.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Vader," she hissed menacingly.

Behind their masks, Luke knew the stormtroopers were silently laughing. They probably hadn't been this entertained since graduating from the academy.

Wes, who had finished gasping for air, looked up at Luke and eyed his trousers with silent confusion, which soon turned to disgusted realisation.

"You need some help with that Skipper?" he asked gesturing none too discreetly at Luke's sodden garments.

"Nope, Wedge," said Hobbie before he even had a chance to defend his honour, "Commander Skywalker was just _pissed off_," Somewhere behind Han, Wes chortled away with a slight edge of hysteria. Luke ground his teeth to distract himself from forming plan of impending doom for the Rogue Squad pilots.

"What happen here," demanded Vader before the current situation could descend in an adolescent giggling match. A sudden flash of terror ripped across Wes's features but then it drained away to be replaced by grim determination.

"We were ambushed," he replied bleakly.

Beside him, having regained her royal composure, Leia merely raised one eyebrow.

"Actually, it was more of a full frontal assault that we didn't see coming."

"What attacked you?" rumbled Vader, who had reverted to his usual interrogatory manner.

"You're not going to believe this," said Leia fiercely, "but-,"

" - It was about five foot six, covered head to toe in yellow slime and looked too much like the Emperor to be allowed in polite company," finished Han.

For a moment, Leia looked completely gobsmacked.

"Yep we met him too, nice chap but needs to work on his people skills,"

"No," protested Wes, "there wasn't one of them, there were at least ten. I mean it was really hard to count when they're coming at you like a plague of the undead!"

Darth Vader's mask did not change but Luke could feel a shroud of dark ire descend across his features.

"How many?" the Dark Lord demanded again with his outstretched fist clenched with suppressed rage.

"I told you -," began Wes uneasily,

"-around a dozen give or take two or three," replied Leia coolly, "they seemed to be co-ordinated to a certain degree, as if they could communicate with each other..._telepathically_,"

"Like a hive mind?" asked Wedge with both awe and fear, "what kind of sick experiments did they do to these clones?"

"Perhaps much, perhaps nothing," said Vader, "The Emperor has telepathic powers unseen in any Jedi or Sith,"

"Ah ha!" cried Han almost jumping forwards with glee, "so the Emperor is a Sith Lord! I knew the satanic maniac needed some sort of black magic to keep that wrinkled corpse from disintegrating!"

"Han," snapped Luke, who found it hard to believe the smuggler had managed to survive so long with so little tact. He could feel the stormtroopers, Piett and Veers just itching to pull their triggers.

"The Emperor is indeed a Sith Lord," stated Darth Vader without hesitation. From the surprised and frankly appalled expression scattered around the group, it was obvious that no one else had managed to make this connection. "This means that his clones will have his immense force capabilities but unlike him they are not sane and are easy to kill,"

"Don't be stupid," snapped Wes, "those _things_ managed to dodge my blaster bolts better than critters on heat!"

"Perhaps," snarled Vader, "you need to improve your marksmanship skills,"

"Perhaps you ought to -," snapped Han but he was cut off by Luke's hand grabbing his mouth in vice like grip.

"I think we need to find a safe spot to set up our base and then gather intelligence on these creatures," replied Luke trying to sound rational, "we need to know how many there are, their movements, what abilities they have -,"

"And how do you intend to test that?" demanded General Veers his eyes bulging dangerously.

"Throw you into a pile of them and see how much of your intestine we can scrape off the wall?" asked Wes mockingly. Veers, who was unused to any one defying his orders let alone insulting him, shook dangerously suppressed rage but he was unable to fire his blaster without Darth Vader's express permission.

"Honestly!" snapped Leia, "stop being so childish, all of you. We are all in this together whether you like it or not and if we can't even work together then it doesn't matter how many of those things there are out there, we will lose!"

"The princess is right," said the surprisingly level voice of Admiral Piett who up until now had not made so much as a sound in front of the rebels. "I agree with Commander Skywalker, we should find a safe area to use as a stage for our offensive and defensive manoeuvres."

Luke was both glad and very surprised that an Imperial had decided to agree with him on this topic. He felt for a brief moment, mature and respected, a nice change from being called kid all the time.

"I suggest we set up camp right here in the command deck," continued Luke confidently, "This way if we can hack into the skyhook's systems we should be able to make use of the password protected surveillance equipment to track the movements of these clones. There are thousands of security cameras we can use."

"You are forgetting one thing," said Wedge ominously, "the Andamans are still watching this skyhook. They haven't done anything just yet, perhaps they don't know we are alive but if we start controlling the skyhook's protected systems they will know for sure that we are alive and kicking."

"Yeah well," replied Han casually, "Darth Vader and the nice Imps switched the main generator back on no more than two hours ago. Even if they were half-wits, the Andamans will already be getting an expedition force ready to tackle us, anyway."

There was silence for a brief moment as Rebels and Imperials alike churned through impossible odds of surviving a full assault by the Andaman security forces in their present state. Hobbie was the first to panic and his melodramatic cried of doom didn't help to relieve the tension.

"Oh dear deities above! Why me?"

"Shut your trap, Klivian," snapped Wedge who was visibly unsettled by the prospect of dying in this force forsaken corner of the galaxy where no one he knew would ever venture to retrieve his corpse.

"There is no need to panic," rumbled Vader, his normally threatening voice becoming a calm commanding tone that caused Hobbie to stop abruptly and snap his mouth shut with surprise. "We have no need to fear a reprisal from the Andaman system."

A murmur of surprise and dissent swept through the gathered crowd,

"Really?" demanded Han in his most sarcastic tone, "what gave you that idea?"

"Look into the navigation computer, and then if you do not believe me look out of the starboard view portal," Vader gestured calmly to the left of the bridge where a two large expanses of transparisteel looked out onto the vastness of space. To the right a symmetrical expanse of transparisteel showed an equally dazzling array of stars. Between the two spectacular viewing ports the forest of giant cylindrical motherboards hummed away quietly in the background.

"Okay," muttered Han sceptically as he leant over a control panel and tapped impatiently on the screen to draw up the navigation and star maps stored within the computer system. "Well what am I supposed to be seeing?"

Darth Vader stabbed his leather clad finger into the holoprojection at the junction between two unnamed star systems. It was a small blue dot labelled "Andaman" and as the holoprojection responded to Vader's touch the navigation image zoomed into show the skyhook orbiting several kilometre above the surface of Andaman which had since been enlarged to show a detailed image of the planet as it spun slowly on its tilted axis around the Rotaris Star.

"Well, I'm glad the bloody thing is still there!" snapped Han belligerently "but what is your point, Lord Vader?"

"Look at the bridge of the skyhook, according to this real time image the tip of the skyhook is pointing towards the planet."

"So...what?" asked Luke looking as perplexed as everyone else standing in the dim light of the control deck.

"According to this image," continued Vader with upmost patience, "we should be able to see Andaman from the bridge..."

There was a brief scuffle as Wedge, Wes and Hobbie raced towards the viewing portal and pressed their noses up against the huge sheets of transparisteel glass. They didn't need to say anything for the rest of the group to join them, some more hesitantly than others but as everyone lined up like spectators at a freak show, they were met with the same incomprehensible image.

The black vastness of space stretched before them in the view port where a planet should have been.

Andaman had vanished into the ether and no one had even noticed.

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**AN: And you thought clone zombies were the least of their worries! What do you do when the only thing anchoring you in space suddenly vanishes? review and find out in the next instalment.**


	19. That Slow Sinking Feeling

**Title:** Who Killed Moff Tarkin?

**Chapter:** 19.

**Keywords:** Mystery, murder, Tarkin, Luke, Vader

**Rating:** G

**Genre:** Adventure/Horror/Mystery

**Timeline:** Post ESB

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**AN: I can't believe that its been two years! I have been rambling through other fandoms but I;m back to star wars now! Will be updating the other fics too soon!**

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**28****th**** DAY OF THE FIFTH MONTH, 19.45 HOURS – CONTROL DECK, SKYHOOK**

Luke's first thought as he stared into the vast stretch of empty blackness disrupted only by tiny pinpricks of light was to look harder. Perhaps his subconscious was hoping the planet had simply decided to play hide and seek with him, as the keys for his x-wing were apt to do. After a round of intense scrutiny the keys would inevitably turn up again right under his very nose. However, as he peered intently out of the view screen he could see nothing that even remotely resembled the planet Andaman. He knew exactly what the planet should look like; a swirling green and grey spherical shape had graced the covers of the every single dossier he had been made to read in the last few months. He had leafed through papers on Andaman environmental change, plasma cores and social conventions without much interest but the image of grey clouds swirling above an emerald green planet stuck with him. In his mind's eye, Luke could picture the planet turning slowly on its axis around a small yellow star. He could remember thinking how different Andaman was to the dust ball he had the misfortune of being bought up on. Despite being just as isolated and even further from the centre of the galaxy, Andaman looked like a haven of life and excitement. Its green continents were divided by purple mountain ranges that stretched thousands of kilometers across the vast rolling plains and deep blue oceans sprawled across the surface of the planet, giving rise to a mosaic of blue, green and purple. Now the entire planet had simply vanished into the ether and Luke felt an irrational pang of sadness at the thought of never being able to set foot on Andaman.

"There's gotta be an explanation!" cried Han sounding more desperate than the time he had been caught red handed smuggling spice down an Imperial space lane.

"Well, holy mother of all that is good in this galaxy!" said Wes with awe, "imagine that, a whole planet just gone."

"This is no time for admiration," snapped Hobbie breathless with fright, "what's holding us in orbit!"

"Don't be daft Klivian," interrupted Wedge before Hobbie could begin a rant, "the skyhook was never supposed to be orbiting anything anyway."

"Actually," said Leia calmly, "I don't think that's entirely the case. Do you remember the file we read about the skyhook, Luke?"

Luke tore his eyes away from the small section of space that had suddenly become the centre of attention and looked back at Leia with confusion. He hadn't even bothered to download that particular file as he figured the Rogue pilots would be able to find everything on the skyhook he could ever want and many more things besides.

"The files said that the skyhook had the ability to set its own orbit around any space body as part of its autopilot mode. In fact its manual mode is severely limited. The skyhook was launched on autopilot and hasn't been manually operated at all in its entire history. They described it as state of the art unique Andaman technology that would ensure that even if it came under attack or suffered a similar calamity, the autopilot's artificial intelligence would be able to neutralize the situation and maintain safety on board," explained Leia.

"Well what happens when the power generator is switched off and then back on?" demanded Han, "does the giant clever computer need to reboot? Also if the damn thing is so clever why hasn't it killed us off already? It's what those Andamans want!"

"Because," rumbled Vader silencing Han as effectively as three litres of Corellian brandy, "its primary programming is to protect the internal environment of this vessel. If the princess is correct, there is very little the Andamans can do to modify the skyhook's behavior. Not that it matters now," Vader gestured with one black glove at the transparisteel viewports.

"Yeah I guess, they aren't exactly going to be giving us any trouble," muttered Luke mournfully.

"You are wrong," continued Vader pointing at Luke in a particularly patronizing manner. "The planet cannot disappear overnight, it is quite possible that Andaman has been gone for some time."

"What?" cried Hobbie looking impossibly pale, "but – but I saw it from the view bay on Level 12 just a few days ago."

"View bays are prescribed areas, the view you saw could easily have been faked," replied Admiral Piett with an annoying tone of superiority. "It is most likely that the Andamans moved the skyhook during our stay away from their planet."

"No you idiot!" snapped Han and refused to look even vaguely apologetic about his choice of words, "that's Andaman's sun! There isn't another star like it in this section of the galaxy, and look over there is the gas giant Halo and its moon Portal. We are in the right place, the planet's the one that's gone walk about."

Luke had to take Han at his word considering that he hadn't bothered to learn any of the geography in this sector of the galaxy. He could vaguely remember seeing a gas giant and its large rocky moon hovering to the right of the planet Andaman from the viewing bay on Level 12. Han meanwhile was looking more flustered than Luke had ever seen him. His face had turned a nasty shade of magenta and his brows were knitted together so tightly Chewbacca would have a hard time prying them apart. The said wookiee, meanwhile, was standing apart from the group coolly observing the situation in case he needed to intervene on Han's behalf. Ten years of being Captain Solo's first mate had made Chewbacca a seasoned hand in finishing conflicts - permanently.

"If Vader is right," said Wedge before the Imperial Admiral could interject, "the planet has been missing far longer than we ever expected. This skyhook has precious few viewports as it is and cordoning us off from all but one viewing bay was perfectly simple, none of us would be at all suspicious because we were too wrapped up in the negotiations to care. Those sneaky Andamans!"

"They might not have been Andamans," replied Vader in his rumbling tone.

The suggestion hit Luke like a bombshell and suddenly all his jumbled thoughts fell into place. The Andamans had nothing to gain from destroying the negotiations so the people who had planned all of this were not Andamans at all. The entire set up was one gigantic scam.

"It makes sense," whispered Leia sounding awestruck, "it all makes sense…the abrupt message they sent the Alliance, we debated for months about whether it was genuine. The Andamans have never shown the slightest interest in joining the rest of the galaxy, nor did they really hate the Empire because you lot left them pretty much alone. If the Bothans hadn't informed us that the Empire had received a similar message we would never have ventured out here."

"We would not have agreed to negotiations had the Rebellion simply ignored the message like we intended," replied General Veers in a tone that suggested he knew exactly who to blame for this entire debacle.

"You didn't bother to check if the message was genuine?" asked Han incredulously, "I mean don't you have like an intelligence service that employs more people than the entire population of the Corellian System?"

"We were not able to check the message," snapped Veers angrily, "the Andaman government has been increasingly unresponsive to Imperial overtures."

"Unresponsive as in hostile or simply ignoring you?" inquired Leia without the usual undertone of sarcasm she used when in conversation with Imperials. General Veers lips pressed into two thin bloodless lines as he reluctantly considered how to avoid exposing state secrets whilst giving away enough information to keep the dialogue going.

"They did not respond at all to anything that the Empire sent through the normal communication channels," clarified Admiral Piett, "we assumed at first that they were going to undertake hostilities against neighbouring Imperial space lanes as part of an escalating cycle of isolationist activity but the threat did not materialize."

"What do you mean 'escalating'?" asked Han, "I thought the Andamans didn't attack Imperial convoys, that's our job!"

"The intelligence service have intercepted communications that indicated a deepening distrust towards the Empire for some time but -"

" - they never acted on the sentiment until eight months ago," said Leia finishing Admiral Piett's sentence for him.

"I see the Rebellion has been active in this sector," rumbled Vader almost pensively. The dark lord was no doubt storing that particular bead of information to further his nefarious agenda. Leia neither confirmed nor denied this statement; instead she simply raised one haughty eyebrow and continued on her previous line of thought.

"An Imperial shipping convoy from the neighbouring sector was ambushed in the grey zone just beyond the border with Andaman. You thought it was a pirate attack at first but then further analysis showed that the weaponry used during the assault was unique to the Andaman security forces. This was the first ever government endorsed incursion into the Empire by the Andamans."

Leia looked around for confirmation from the silent Imperials, who were doing a poor job of hiding their surprise and despair at the amount of sensitive data the Rebel princess had obtained.

"It was uncharacteristic but unsurprising," replied Admiral Piett cautiously, "there is no need to give the situation more importance than its due."

"The princess has a point," said Vader curtly, "the Andaman government would not have risked an incursion into Imperial territory and then invited the Empire to a negotiation table within the space of a few months. It may be possible that the real Andamans were already out of the picture by the time we received the negotiation summons. The people we were negotiating with were not Andamans at all."

Luke felt a strange cold shudder slide down his spine and pool in an icy pit somewhere deep in his gut. In his mind's eye images of the various people he had met throughout the luxurious stay onboard the skyhook flashed before his eyes. There had been no disturbances in the force as he entered the skyhook and surrendered all his personal belonging save his father's lightsabre. He had never felt the slightest hint of deception from the uniformed guards that lined all the corridors. They had all been totally and completely hoodwinked from the very beginning. Someone had the power to make an entire inhabited planet disappear from the galaxy and then dupe the Alliance and the Empire into sending their best personnel to a fake negotiation where they had nearly all been killed.

"So this whole thing was sham," grumbled Hobbie bitterly, "I knew it was too good to be true, nothing this good could ever happen to people like us."

"But why?" asked Leia still half lost in her own thoughts.

"Well, maybe those nice clones of the Emperor will be able to tell you, if you get close enough to ask them," said Han sarcastically, "but I'll bet my blaster that his rottenness is involved somehow."

"That is the Emperor of which you speak!" bellowed Veers with a sudden vehemence that almost made Luke jump. He was secretly glad he had managed to control his reflexes this time and prevent another embarrassing episode.

"Han apologizes," snapped Leia impatiently, "but he might be correct, there is an entire lab full of his clones on this skyhook. I hardly believe someone managed to clone the Emperor and set them loose on us without him at least knowing about it."

General Veers glared furiously down at the rebels with pure hatred lining his chiseled features. The man clearly had a pathological love for the Emperor and Han's causal abuse of his idol was not making the already tense relationship between the two sides any better. The mere suggestion that the great Emperor, father of the galaxy, could be in any way associated with a malevolent scheme to destroy his own men was a terrible insult to a man of Veer's devotion.

"Well, if you guys are done quibbling," said Wedge ominously, "I think the skyhook has just picked up an incoming transmission."

The loose group of Imperials and Rebels immediately gathered around the comms console that Wedge was hunched over. Hobbie was positively trembling with a potent mix of excitement and fear. Luke wanted to reach over and place a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder but then thought better of it. A show of sentiment in front of the Imperials would only be interpreted as weakness.

"What does it say?" demanded Han impatiently. He was completely ignorant of how to read the comm controls but he still squinted fiercely at the image flashing on the main display.

"I'm not a comms expert -" began Wedge hesitantly.

"You're the closest thing we have to one," answered Wes, "you're the only idiot who actually bothered to study those communication dossiers -"

"It is not a standard signal," rumbled Vader cutting across everyone's thoughts, "neither Imperial nor Rebel. It was designed to be received by this skyhook."

"How can you tell?" asked Han as he titled his head to an alarming angle just to get a different view of the screen. "Those squiggles look like they might be some sort of writing -"

"Vader's right, the squiggles are Andaman writing, which you would be able to read had you bothered to attend any of the preliminary lectures," said Leia acridly.

"Well what does it translate as?" asked Hobbie, his hands flapping about seeming of their own accord. Leia bent forwards over the screen trying to decipher the constantly changing text as it flashed across the screen.

"Should it even be doing that?" asked Wes as he pointed bluntly at the flickering words, "did we break the console or something?"

"Two brothers descended from Heaven -" said Vader calmly.

"What?" said Luke, incredulously. He vaguely recognized the words as the opening lines of a poem he had been forced to study in school.

"Epimetheus and Prometheus," said Leia sounding suddenly breathless, "It's Plato's Protagoras about how the world came to be."

"Right –" drawled Han bitterly. He was far too pragmatic to respect any message that quoted archaic scripture, "some nut job is broadcasting long rang 'bouncers' across the galaxy."

"No," said Leia, her voice filled with an immediate wonder, "it's a message. Epimetheus was tasked with giving every creature in the galaxy a good trait -"

"But he didn't plan ahead," said Luke catching onto her train of thought, "and when he came to sentient creatures, he ran out of good things to give them."

"So Prometheus sacrificed his immortal life to bring civilization, art and fire to the galaxy," finished Leia.

"How does that even help us?" asked Han, looking completely left out of the loop.

"It helps us because," replied Admiral quietly, "this poem is traditionally broadcasted to signify one's deep regret of leaving one's home world. Civilization is a gift from Prometheus, who sacrificed his eternal soul. When a group is forced to leave this behind for regions unknown, they would traditionally broadcast this poem."

"How does that even work?" demanded Han, throwing up his hands in exasperation. Growing up as a street urchin with no formal education, Han had developed a pathological distaste for lofty intellectual subjects that had no bearing upon his pragmatic view of reality.

"Obviously it signals that the Andamans were forced to leave their planet – perhaps due to some natural calamity and they had the foresight to set up this transmission to any spacefarers who would come into the sector," replied the Admiral.

"Yes but no one ever ventures into Andaman space unless they are suicidal!" snapped Han, "and you can't use a bloody poem to judge what happened to an entire planet. We don't even have a source for the transmission. It could be a bouncer from an Outer Rim advertising agency for all we know."

"It's a lead at least," stated Leia flatly. "The Trade Federation reported hearsay that the Andaman plasma reserves were running low a decade before the Clone Wars and we have no idea how out of date that piece of news was. On the balance of probabilities, I would say the planet vapourized due to over mining of the plasma core. The Andamans must have predicted this would happen and evacuated their planet. As to why they left a message – I think they were trying to warn us."

"Seriously?" muttered Wedge, "What are they psychically able to predict the future now?"

"No," replied Leia with a withering look, "the Andamans must have realized that it would take years, maybe even decades before the rest of the galaxy realized their planet was gone. If any of you had bothered to read the briefing, you would know that due to the Theophilius Nebulae, electromagnetic transmissions in or out of Andaman space are severely restricted. Only the longest wavelengths have a chance of passing through and even then the information may be completely distorted. All our messages came through fragmenting detectors outside Andaman space and the detectors only work one way. The transmission we are receiving cannot have originated from outside the sector. It was left here by the Andamans, weeks or years ago, and there's no way of knowing, but judging from the overall lack of meteors or other debris I would guess the planet's been gone far longer than any of us think, perhaps they have been gone for nearly a century."

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**AN: Thank you for sticking with me for all this time - a two year hiatus! Please review! **


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